


Let the Sparks Fly

by orphan_account



Category: Formula One (RPF)
Genre: 2016, 2017, 2018, Australian Grand Prix-2015, Drama, F1 - Freeform, F1BigBang, Friends to Lovers, I don't know how else to tag this, M/M, Malaysia Grand Prix 2017, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Spanish Grand Prix 2016, implied sex, kind of, monaco, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 02:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16735740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This chapter was written BEFORE everything went down and I didn't want to add onto it, as it broke my heart too much. I know that sounds stupid but...it's true. I hope you guys all enjoyed this work because it took me way too long to write.





	1. Australian Grand Prix--2015

  
          Max had not expected this. He hadn’t really, expected any form of good wishes from anybody, least of all a licensed Formula One driver. When he pulled into the lot of the testing facility he had been a coil of nervous energy, the lack of “good luck” only making it worse. With each passing second, as he pulled on his racing attire, claustrophobia set in and he could feel the beginning of a panic attack. However, before he could even grab his helmet, one of his supervisors entered the room, a smile on his face and his phone in hand.  
          “You’ve got a message, Max,” he said, gesturing the young driver forward and tilting the screen so Max could see it. It was a video message, which struck Max as, sort of, odd. Though, all those thoughts vanished when the video began.  
          “Hello, Max,” a sweet Australian accent poured from the speakers, the smoothness of it making him smile and the room a little bit hotter. The man on the screen had tanned skin, a bright smile and the most gorgeous brown eyes Max had ever seen. “I heard you’re going for your super license today. All of us at Red Bull wish you luck and we’ll see you on the grid in about…six months’ time.” The man smiles again before the video ends and Max finds himself grinning along with him, running his hand through his hair nervously.  
          “Daniel sent that?” he asks, hoping his blush wasn’t as visible as it felt. The supervisor nods. “That’s cute. Tell him I said thank you, yeah?” The man nods and leaves Max to finish preparing himself for the test ahead.  
          That was, as Daniel said, six months ago. Now, he was a certified Formula One driver, racing with Toro Rosso and the Australian Grand Prix was just an hour away.  
          Max nervously paced the length of his garage, biting his fingernails and humming to himself. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his teammate and his mechanics were too busy making last minute adjustments to the car to calm him down, which left it up to him to settle his racing heart. He tried doing what James Hunt had done: finding a secluded corner of the garage and visualizing the track, running through it as if it were a simulation. That only proved to make things worse. He growled in frustration and covered his eyes with the palms of his hands, breathing deeply.  
          “You doing alright, mate?”  
          The voice startles Max and he sits upright a bit too fast, throwing his equilibrium off balance. He stands up shakily and brushes his hair out of his eyes. His breath hitches when he sees who is standing before him. Daniel Ricciardo was much more attractive in person; not that Max would admit that to anyone. His honey-tanned skin appeared flawless and his eyes glowed a beautiful amber in the light of the Australian sun. his jet-black hair curled softly atop his head and a fringe fell forward across his forehead. He was smiling at Max; not judgmental but understanding.  
           “Yeah, I guess I’m alright,” Max responds, straightening the invisible wrinkles from his shirt. “Just a bit nervous.”  
           “Yeah, you’ll get used to that,” Daniel says, looking over his shoulder at the track beyond. Max got the impression he was still battling his own nerves. Daniel looks back to him. “One day.” Max smiles, the knot in his stomach dissipating slightly. The two stand in silence for a few moments, staring everywhere but each other. Max felt small next to the Aussie and the knot slowly returned. What is wrong with me?  
           “How do you typically handle it?” Max questions.  
           Daniel shrugs. “For one, I wouldn’t be talking to you. Or anyone. Being around people for too long makes things worse.” He must have thought those words offended Max, as he said them a bit too hurriedly. “But, you’re new and seem like an interesting person.”  
           Max laughs softly, ducking his head and carding his fingers through his hair. “Thanks, I guess?”  
           “It’s a compliment,” Daniel says. They fall into, yet, another awkward silence, with Daniel looking at Max as if he were something fascinating. Max grew hot beneath the Aussie’s gaze and had to unfasten the Velcro around his neck. He tried to make it appear subtle but Daniel’s grin told him he hadn’t succeeded.  
           “I’d better get back to…what I was doing,” Max says, anxiety and embarrassment stirring in his stomach. He normally wasn’t this nervous talking to other people but something about Daniel made it impossible to talk like a normal human being.  
           “Yeah, I’ll let you get back to that,” Daniel responds, clapping his hands together before turning around and heading back towards the track. Before he leaves the garage, he stops and looks at Max over his shoulder, a bright smile on his face. “Good luck, Max.”  
           Max’s heart skips a beat upon hearing his name fall from Daniel’s laps—which should not have been the reaction—and he smiles in return. “Likewise, mate.”  
           Max watches Daniel leave, feeling significantly happier than he had a few minutes ago. He had a feeling the two of them would get along just fine.

          His good mood lasted through most of the race, the several retirements that happened before him only serving to boost his confidence. Max did not expect he would be one of the names at the bottom of the scoreboard, DNF in the spot where P1 should have been. He didn’t even know what had happened. One moment Max was on top of the world, making up positions and bringing his team a good name. The next moment he was off the track, smoke pouring from the back of his car. He was pissed—no, he was beyond pissed—that his car would have failed him like that. He knew it wasn’t his fault; he had tried to be conservative in his driving to avoid a situation just like this.  
          “My first race of the season and this is how it goes!” Max shouts in the isolation of his garage, the rest of the crew having joined the teams on the track to congratulate their other—better—driver. He should have gone with them; it was his job as a teammate, after all. Yet, he couldn’t find it within himself to leave his car, the piece of shit the only thing keeping him from quitting on the spot. That, and his dad would be furious. Max falls to the ground next to his car, leaning his head back against the tire and closing his eyes, willing his anger-driven mind to calm down.  
          The sound of something knocking on metal startles Max and stands up, bracing his hand against his car and squeezing his eyes shut to allow the sudden vertigo to pass. When he opens them again he is met with a very sympathetic Daniel Ricciardo, his normally cheerful expression now one of concern.  
          “Hey, Daniel,” Max says shakily, turning his head away from the Aussie’s gaze.  
          “I’m sorry about your race, mate,” Daniel says, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at his shoes. “That wasn’t the kind of luck I’d hoped for.”  
          Max chuckled nervously, his bad mood dissipating slightly. “You actually had hopes for me?”  
          Daniel shrugs. “Maybe a little bit.”


	2. Monte Carlo--2016

It had taken several, exhausting days but Max was now, officially, part of the Monaco crowd. He had an apartment overlooking the ocean and lives just a few floors below his new teammate. Pre-season testing looked promising, the start of the 2016 season was now just weeks away and Max now lived on his own; how much better could life get?

               Daniel had helped Max get his stuff moved from the Netherlands to Monte Carlo over the past week, which had been very helpful. It allowed the two of them to grow closer—“team-bonding” as Daniel called it—and Max found the Australian to be pleasant company. He was always smiling, cracking jokes and messing around when they should have been putting together furniture. It did get annoying at times but it was, overall, a wonderful addition to the stress of moving. Max had been a bit hesitant to accept his help. What he had felt during the Australian Grand Prix last year scared him and he didn’t want to ruin any friendship they might have with romantic feelings. Plus, they were going to be teammates; that would be weird enough.

               Max leans against the balcony, watching the yachts in the harbor below move with the sway of the ocean. He could smell the salt on the breeze, feel the chill air brush across the exposed skin of his arms and card its gentle fingers through his too-long hair. It’s starting to fall into his eyes and he has to brush it away every few seconds. “I really need a haircut.”

               “I’d have to agree with you.”

               Max starts and whips around, heart beating furiously. He growls when he realizes it was Daniel who had spoken, leaning against the sliding glass door with a couple of white grocery bags in one hand and a brown paper one in the other. Daniel chuckles and joins Max on the balcony, setting the bags down on one of the chairs.

               “Haven’t you heard of knocking?” Max asks, looking at his friend. He tried to ignore the way the light caught Daniel’s skin, dancing through the amber of his eyes and lighting up his already bright smile.

               “I figured I wouldn’t need to knock. There’s nothing you would be doing that requires it,” Daniel answers, returning Max’s gaze. He had to hurriedly look away, a soft blush painting his cheeks.

               “How do you know that?”

               “I know you’re not with anybody and it’s not like you’ve found someone within the, what, week you’ve been here?” Daniel responds, smiling and chuckling at Max’s flustered expression.

               “Fair enough.” Max looks at Daniel out of the corner of his eye. He wishes he had a camera on hand. His soft smile, paired with the beauty of the Monegasque sunset, was beautiful and it drove Max crazy.

               “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Daniel says, clapping Max’s shoulder and laughing softly. The Dutchman’s cheeks turn a soft pink and he tries to act as if he wasn’t affected by the warm hand on his bare skin.      

               “I wasn’t looking at you,” Max says. His voice wavered a bit, only adding to his embarrassment. Daniel pats his shoulder gently, then turns back to the sliding glass door, bending down to retrieve the bags he had brought with him.

               “Whatever you say. Come on,” Daniel says, tapping his fingers on the glass. “It’s time we celebrate your successful first year.” Max looks over his shoulder, hoping to catch Daniel’s million-dollar smile but is met with a far more amazing sight; his silhouette against the light of the living room. The clothes he wore clung to each curve of his body and Max found himself wondering if he would look just as gorgeous without the tight fabrics. _No, stop that, Max!_ He squeezes his eyes shut for a few moments, willing the thoughts away, then pushes himself away from the balcony railing and joins his teammate in the kitchen.

               Daniel had bought a lot more alcohol than they probably needed. In the white grocery bags there were boxes of beer and a kind of liquor Max hadn’t seen before. Deciding he could be of use, Max put all but two beers in the fridge and was reaching for the brown bag when Daniel stopped him.

               “This is something a bit…harder,” Daniel says at Max’s confused expression. “And personal.” He takes the bag and places it towards the back of the fridge, as if trying to hide its contents from Max. The younger driver blows it off and makes his way to the living room.

               “What’d you have in mind for tonight?” Max questions, falling back on the couch and resting his feet on the coffee table, setting the bottles beside him. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Daniel sat beside him and grabbed the nearest bottle of beer.

               “I don’t know,” he says, leaning forward and placing the bottle cap on the edge of the table, gripping the neck tightly and bringing his hand forcefully down on the cap, efficiently opening the bottle. “I just planned on catching up, you know? Talking, drinking.” To emphasize his point, he lifts the bottle to his lips and drinks deeply. The way his lips wrapped around the top of the bottle left nothing to Max’s imagination and he hurriedly looked away to avoid any awkwardness. He mentally punches himself. _What is going on with you? He’s your damn teammate!_

               “Alright,” Max says, grabbing his own beer and mimicking Daniel’s way of opening it. Fortunately, he succeeded the first time and took a couple of tentative sips. They sat in silence for a few moments, both of them trying to come up with a topic to discuss other than work. Family? Aspirations? Embarrassing things from their childhood? None of them seemed right to talk about. They only thing that came naturally was racing.

               “You ready for next season?” Daniel asks, looking to his teammate.

               Max shrugs and takes another drink. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. It’s going to be quite a change.”

               “Faster car, though,” Daniel adds. Max chuckles.

               “Yeah. Definitely a faster car.” Silence falls again. Neither of the drivers look at each other, both of them far too interested in bottles they held.

               “It’ll be nice to work with you,” Daniel eventually says, much to Max’s surprise. The Dutchman looks at him, brows furrowed. “I mean, Daniil was nice and all but you and I…we just get on better.” Max can feel the tips of his ears burning and the living room seems very hot, despite his clothing.

               “Yeah, likewise.” Max raises his beer in acknowledgment. “Carlos was fun but I need something different.”

               “To new teammates…and better cars,” Daniel says, raising his drink in a toast.

               Max laughs and returns Daniel’s proposition, grinning widely. “To new teammates and better cars.” They both drink deeply from their respective bottles, Max coughing halfway through and reducing to a choking mess. Daniel laughs, sets down his drink and slides closer to Max, clapping him forcefully on the back to help. They were both smiling once Max recovered, teary-eyed and red-faced. He wipes away the tears with his thumb and he hardly noticed Daniel’s hand resting at the small of his back, feather-light but still there. Realizing he was still touching him, Daniel moves back to his original spot, picks up his beer and takes another drink.

               “Probably should have taken it a bit easier,” Max says, voice strained. He coughs one more time before placing his beer back on the coffee table and leaning back against the leather couch, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He can feel Daniel’s eyes on him but he doesn’t care.

               “You’re still young,” Daniel says. “There’s no need to drink as if it’s your last day.”

               “Says the man who brought an entire lifetime’s supply of beer to my apartment,” Max answers jokingly, looking over at his teammate.

               Daniel shrugs. “Alcohol makes bonding fun.” He drinks again and makes an exaggeration of putting his bottle down and leaning back, resting his feet on the coffee table.

               Max wasn’t sure who the first to suggest it was but a few hours—and several beers—later he found himself laughing with Daniel at memories of his childhood, past races and mistakes they’d made in their careers. Max was surprised to learn that Daniel hasn’t always been the calm and collected driver he makes himself out to be. In fact, when he was in his teenage years, he was very aggressive when it came to, pretty much, any form of racing. He was never “push them off the track” aggressive but he wasn’t afraid to push the car past its limits to take a win. If it came to a bit of contact, he wouldn’t have moved out of the way; that was up to his opponent. Max had stopped talking a while ago, leaving Daniel to laugh at his own stories and find something else for them to discuss. After he had fallen silent for the first time in a while, Max leans his head back against the sofa and closes his eyes, exhaling softly. He’s exhausted after the amount of work he did today and wants nothing more than to put on some shit television show and sleep the rest of the month away.

               It was as if Daniel had read his mind. A few seconds after he had envisioned his perfect evening the sound of the television filled the room; quiet, yet still audible. Max opened his eyes and sat up straighter, fixing his gaze ahead of him. Some action movie was playing on the screen, gunshots and shouts filling the air. He wasn’t particularly interested but his exhausted and alcohol-clouded mind made it seem more intriguing than it actually was.

               “I hope you don’t mind,” Daniel says, gesturing to the TV with the remote. “It got sort of quiet and, you know, I don’t take quiet very well when I’m tipsy.”

               Max shakes his head. “I don’t mind at all.” He stifles a yawn with the back of his hand and shuffles slightly closer to Daniel, in case he fell asleep. He would much rather wake up on his teammate’s shoulder than awkwardly slumped against the couch. “What is this?”

               Daniel shrugs. “Hell, if I know. Some terrible French movie, I’d reckon.” Max hums in agreement and absently watches the film, growing far more tired with each passing moment. Soon, the images on the screen become ineligible blurs as Max fights to stay awake. He decides it won’t hurt to close his eyes for a few moments and he does just that.

              

               Max doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes up to something very warm beneath him. It didn’t feel quite like his bed but it didn’t feel like the stiffer couch cushions either. All he knew was that is was very, very comfortable. There was a weight on his back, holding him in place and securing him against the strange comfort. He opens his eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the light but all he saw was that of the television, playing some kind of infomercial. Max takes a deep breath and stretches himself out, the joints of his shoulders cracking from lack of use. That’s when something shifts beneath him.

               Max nearly yelps when the thing beneath him moves ever so slightly. He sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes and trying to see what woke him. To his surprise, Daniel was asleep as well, stretched out on the couch like a dog. His curls were even more in disarray than usual and he had an arm thrown over his eyes. Max hurriedly—yet carefully—disentangles himself from his teammate, standing up and stretching even more. He allows himself a couple seconds to admire the peaceful form of his teammate; at ease and relaxed, no worry to mar his naturally cheerful expression. Max smiles ever so slightly and winces at the dryness of his mouth.

               He yawns and makes for the kitchen, where he had set aside some bottles of water to chill in the fridge. When he opened the door, however, his eyes weren’t drawn to the water. They were drawn to the mysterious brown bag at the back of the fridge. Daniel hadn’t wanted him to see it; claimed it was “personal”. The two of them were as good of friends as any on the grid, so why hadn’t he wanted Max to know what was in it? The Dutchman looks over his shoulder at Daniel, who was still fast asleep, then back to the bag. _It wouldn’t hurt to see what is is, would it?_ He checks to make sure his teammate was still asleep before grabbing the bag, as quietly as the rustling paper would allow, and crouching in the light of the fridge. He gingerly pulls out a large, round bottle of red liquid which, upon further examination, turned out to be wine; a cheap bottle of Cabernet-Merlot.

               Max chuckles. “What were you doing with _this?_ ” He turns the bottle over in his hands a few times, smiling to himself at having caught Daniel’s romantic side.

               That light-hearted feeling was quickly chased away by an unfamiliar fire in his stomach, burning its way through his veins. He felt angry towards Daniel for bringing this object of romance into his flat when it, most likely, wasn’t for him. _Why would he do that?_ Max shoves the bottle back in the bag and places it back in the fridge, closing the door as forcefully as he can while still keeping quiet; though he was angry with Dan, he still didn’t want to wake him. Max pauses in the entryway to the kitchen, casting a furious glance at his teammate. His peaceful form soothed the fire for a brief moment, then Max stalked away towards his own room, where he could sleep alone and avoid any other unwanted emotions.


	3. Spanish Grand Prix--2016

               To say the Spanish Grand Prix was exciting would be an understatement. Max doesn’t think his heart rate has ever been so high; not even when he went hiking with Daniel a few weeks ago and that was intense. He couldn’t focus on anything else during the last few laps but the road and the car beneath him. He was exhausted and slightly nauseous from anxiety but he didn’t let those pains stop him from taking his first win.

               Max, honestly, had no idea how he won that race. It had been a roller coaster during the first half, what with Rosberg and Hamilton running each other off the track, the several changes of positions and his battles with Ricciardo but the final laps had been the same; anxiety and praying to whatever gods were looking down on him. When the chequered flag dropped, he let out the loudest whoop of happiness he had ever made, punching both fists into the air. His vision was beginning to blur from tears, all of his anxiety and exhaustion flooding from his being. It was the greatest moment of his life.

               When he reached victory lane, Max searched the crowd of Red Bull team members for the familiar smiling face of Daniel, even though he knew he’d be back in the garage. He wanted nothing more than to hold the Aussie in his arms and feel his laughter against his chest. He was too exhausted—or, maybe, he was starting to accept it—to notice the feelings.

               Max did his press duties and celebrated with his fellow podium-winners, drinking from the bottle of champagne until he couldn’t breathe. He was on his way back to his motorhome to shower and relax for a few hours before the inevitable afterparty, when he was met with a familiar voice and rough slap to his shoulder. He looks back to see Daniel smiling and laughing; Max was helpless to do the same.

               “You did it, Max!” the Aussie said, falling into step with his younger teammate. “Your maiden victory. How do you feel?”

               “I need sugar,” Max responds with a smile. He had been too nervous that morning to eat anything other than a bit of an apple and that hadn’t sat well with him. Now that he had secured the finish he had been looking for and calmed down enough to think, he was starving and exhausted.

               “I’m sure there’s plenty of it in your motorhome,” Daniel says, clapping him once more on the back and dropping his arms to his sides. “Mind if I accompany you?” Max shrugs, which Dan takes as a ‘yes’. They continue the walk in silence, reveling in the results of the race.

               “Make yourself comfortable,” Max says as they enter the cool interior of the motorhome. He kicks off his shoes and gestures to the shower behind him. “I’m going to clean up, then head back to the hotel.”

               “Fair enough,” Daniel responds, falling back on the couch with a sigh and crossing his arms behind his head. “Wake me up when you’re done.”

               Max scoffs, peeking around the doorframe of the bathroom. “I don’t take _that_ long.”

               Daniel laughs. “You’d be surprised, mate.” Max rolls his eyes and enters the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

               The first thing Max sees is his reflection in the mirror. His hair was in wild disarray, his eyes were brighter than he had ever seen them and his cheeks were flushed a light pink. He peels his racing suit from his body, followed by his fireproofs and underthings. He sets them delicately beside the sink and turns to the shower, bending over to turn the water on. He turns the knob almost as far left as it will go and steps beneath the spray. The water hits his back in a massaging way, washing away all the tension from his shoulders and making him sleepier than he already is. Max hurriedly sets about washing his hair and body before he could fall asleep, finishing his bathing within fifteen minutes. He towel-dries his hair and torso, wrapping the white cloth around his hips. He slips back into the main part of his motorhome and is startled by Daniel still on the couch. In his minutes of relaxation, he had completely forgotten about his teammate.

               Max can only stand there in shock, gripping the towel tightly around himself to prevent anything embarrassing. Daniel didn’t look anywhere but at Max’s face, a smile tugging at his lips. The younger driver blushes and brings himself back to the present, making his way towards the back of the motorhome where he kept a spare change of clothes. Daniel remained where he was, laughing softly to himself.

               “You doing better?” he asks when Max returns, pulling a Red Bull team hat onto his head.

               “Definitely,” Max answers, taking a set of keys from a bowl on the coffee table and shoving them in his pocket. He turns away from Daniel and makes for the front door, looking over his shoulder to see if Daniel was following him. “You coming?”

               “Where?” Daniel stands up, stretches his arms above his head, and joins Max outside. The crowd had diminished slightly in their time inside and it gave both drivers a chance to cross the ring without being bombarded by fans and reporters.

               “Back to the hotel,” Max says, crossing the paddock and towards the parking lot beyond. There were still plenty of cars yet to leave but Max trusted his ability to find a way out of busy lots. “There’s going to be celebrations tonight and I thought it would just be easier to go back to the hotel together, that way we can leave at the same time.” Thankfully, the words flowed naturally and didn’t sound like a lame attempt to spend more time with the Australian. He had stopped denying that he was beginning to develop a crush on Daniel, rather than just seeing him as a teammate.

               Not that he would ever tell Daniel that.

               Thankfully, the older driver didn’t question it, just nodded and got into the passenger’s seat of Max’s car: a company loaned Aston Martin. The black leather interior felt like heaven to Max’s tired limbs and he would have loved to fall asleep right there. However, he shoves the key into the ignition and turns the car on, revving the engine a couple times.

               “Calm down, mate,” Daniel says with a smile, belying his serious tone. “We’re not racing anyone.”

               “So what?” Max puts the car in reverse and backs out of his parking spot slowly; much too slowly. He turns the wheel to the left and straightens out, puts the car in gear and lightly presses his foot to the gas.

               “So, I’d rather you not hit anybody on your way out of here,” Daniel says. Max knew he was joking; he would have done the same thing. Max eases out of the parking lot and onto the main street, towards their hotel.

               They ride in silence, the sound of the radio occasionally being heard over the sound of the engine. Max was thankful for the quiet, the shock of victory still vibrating through his body. If he wasn’t on the verge of collapse, he would be bombarding Daniel with questions and comments, acting as if he were a five-year-old boy again instead of an 18-year-old. Max snuck glances at his teammate every once in a while, who didn’t seem to notice. Every time Max looked at him, Daniel had his head against the window, watching the sky. Sometimes, a ray of sunlight would fall directly upon him, encasing him in a golden glow. Max was embarrassed by his sudden feelings; he shouldn’t think his friend— _best_ friend—looks rather pretty in the mid-afternoon sun. Hell, he shouldn’t even be using the words “mid-afternoon sun”. He sighs quietly and returns his focus to the road.

 

               The three hours of spare time Max had were not spent sleeping, like he hoped. As soon as he reached his hotel room, he had received a call from his mother and sister, who were back home in the Netherlands. They congratulated him, promising a celebration when he visited in the next few days. After that, he got a call from one of his best friends from high school, commending him on his victory. Both calls alone took up the better part of an hour. Daniel had left Max alone to shower in the comfort of his own room, which Max found a bit strange but didn’t ask about it. He just fell onto the bed and closed his eyes, instantly falling asleep.

               He was woken up by a soft knocking on his door, followed by the sound of the keycard being swiped through the reader and the door opening. Max didn’t bother moving. He cracked one eye open and was surprised to see Daniel had returned, dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a white button up; not his usual style. Max sat up and rubbed his eyes, then stretched his arms above his head. Daniel sat on the foot of the bed and tossed something to Max. It was a small sphere-shaped object, wrapped in silver foil. He looks up at Daniel curiously, who simply lays on his back and crosses his arms over his chest.

               “Open it,” he says, gazing at Max expectantly. The Dutchman blushed at being his center of attention but proceeded to unwrap the foil anyway. Inside was a chocolate ball, cut into slices like an orange. He smiles and breaks a piece off, biting into it tentatively. Orange and chocolate hit his tongue in tandem and he nearly moaned at how wonderful it felt to have sugar, finally, in his system.

                “Where did you get this?” Max questions, popping the rest of the piece into his mouth. “It’s amazing.”

                “You were asleep and there’s a corner store nearby. I thought it would be a nice way to wake up, with sugar.” Daniel’s response was uninterested, as if the fact that he had walked from the hotel to the gas station and back, just to bring Max a bit of sugar, wasn’t a big deal. The thought sparked something in Max’s stomach that chased away his appetite.

                “Thank you,” Max says, setting the chocolate aside. And he meant it.

                He throws his legs over the side of the mattress and stands up, stretching the rest of his body. He was still dressed in the sponsorship gear he had changed into at the track and, if Daniel’s attire was any indication, he needed to change. He crossed the room to where his suitcase was perched atop a chair, closed but unzipped. He digs through its contents until he finds a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, retreating to the bathroom to change.

                Daniel was resting his back against the bed’s headboard when Max returned, flipping through the hotel’s TV channels with an absent look on his face. He nearly jumps out of his skin when his teammate flops down beside him. Max can’t help but laugh.

                “There’s no need to be so jumpy,” he says. He raises his eyebrows. “Are you doing something you’re not supposed to?”

                Daniel hurriedly shakes his head. “No! No, you just scared me. I didn’t expect you to be ready so quickly.” He checks the watch on his wrist. He inhales deeply and turns off the TV, jumping off the bed. “Christian texted and said he wanted us at some bar at around six. If we leave now, we’ll get there a bit earlier, start the party without everyone else.” Max grabs his jacket from the back of the desk chair and shrugs it over his shoulders, gesturing for Daniel to lead the way.

 

                The bar they ended up at was just a few minutes from their hotel, within walking distance.

This walk, too, was done in silence, Max glancing at his phone every few seconds. He was nervous, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d partied with the Red Bull team a few times before and he was on good terms with nearly everyone; so why was he so scared?

                Daniel had to grab his arm and tug him in the direction of the bar’s entrance after he had passed it, having been staring at his phone screen. He blushes and follows his teammate into the building.

                The atmosphere wasn’t what Max had expected. Instead of pounding techno, rock music poured from the speakers. A soft orange glow illuminated the room, making it seem much more inviting. There wasn’t a lot of people in the bar yet, which Max and Daniel were very thankful for. They find a spot in a corner of the bar, where they were less likely to be seen and are almost immediately greeted by a waiter who couldn’t have been much older than Max. Daniel orders beers for both of them, smiling enchantingly at the boy, who blushes deeply before hurrying off.

                “You don’t have to flirt with everyone you meet,” Max says half-sincerely, that unfamiliar fire burning in the pit of his stomach.

                “Is smiling considered flirting, now?” Daniel retorts, grin broadening. “If it is, then I’m flirting with you right now.” Max blushes and ducks his head, hoping Daniel didn’t catch his flustered expression. He chuckles and reaches across the table to pat Max’s arm. The skin burned where he had been touched.

                “Relax, I’m only teasing you,” Daniel consoles, leaning back in his seat when their server returns with their drinks. He thanks the boy with another smile, then grabs his beer. “Cheers, mate.” Max does the same and takes a longer-than-necessary drink, wincing at both the taste and the chill. Daniel, on the other hand, basked in the exotic flavor, acting as if he were in a commercial rather than a bar with his teammate. It was cute; in its own, annoying way.

 

                It only took another hour for the rest of the Red Bull team to show up, already loud and boisterous despite the early hour. Daniel fit right in with them, joining the crowd at the bar and drinking to his heart’s content. Max, however, preferred to stay in the corner, watching his teammate from a distance. The way he moved with the beat of the music was graceful and natural, hips swaying from side-to-side. But it wasn’t just his body that Max observed. He also watched the way he would glance in his direction, occasionally flashing a smile and gesturing for Max to join them; each time, he declined. Once, when Daniel had drunkenly proposed a toast to Max’s victory (“...and many more to come!” as he said later”), the young Dutchman was helpless to his smile and laughter, which was rewarded with a softer, more fond smile from Daniel.

                As Max was watching Daniel dance again (this time with one of his mechanics), a lopsided grin lighting up his expression, his server stopped by his table to refill his glass. Instead of leaving, however, he followed his client’s gaze to the drunk Australian, then looked back. There was no denying the fondness in his eyes; the strong affection for the tanned stranger who had made him feel a bit flustered himself.

                “You like him, don’t you?” the server asks shakily. Max looks up in surprise, not having realized he was there. He takes a few moments to collect himself and, with the alcohol muddling his thoughts, nods.

                “I like him more than I should.” Max sighs. “And I really hope he doesn’t find out.”


	4. Monte Carlo--2017

Max is drawn from the comfort of sleep by the ringing of his phone. He was half-tempted to roll over and ignore it but, figuring it might be an important call from the team, he sat up and took the phone from its charger on the bedside table. He lazily presses the answer key and puts it on speaker without checking who it was.

                “Yeah?” he asks tiredly, yawning and rubbing his right eye with his free hand. There was silence on the other end for a couple seconds before a familiar, very excited voice speaks.

                “Sorry, did I wake you?” Daniel asks. Max can hear the smile in his voice.

                “Yeah, you did,” Max response, feigning annoyance. “What’s going on?”

                “Well, me and a few friends are throwing a party tonight in Saint Tropez…” he trails off.

                Max lays back down and closes his eyes. “What for? Nothing significant happened.”

                “Yeah, aside from my birth. God’s gift racing,” Daniel answers sarcastically. Max opens his eyes and sits up. He had totally forgotten about Daniel’s birthday, let alone gotten him anything. _Damn it!_

                “Oh, God!” Max exclaims, running a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry, Daniel. I completely forgot.”

                “Oh, don’t worry about it. Anyway, we’re celebrating down in Saint Tropez, if you’d like to join us.”

                Max considers for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s, like, a two hour drive. Why don’t you just stay here? Come over, have a few beers...maybe I can kick your ass in Siege,” Max adds with a smile. He would like nothing more than to spend Daniel’s birthday with him, without other people around. The two of them hardly got a moment alone together and Max missed his humor.

                “Monte Carlo is so boring,” Daniel whines. “The people I’m going with have connections and they agreed to host a party in celebration. They’ve rented us rooms and everything--”

                “Daniel--” Max starts. What Daniel said next made him freeze.

                “We’ll be sharing a room, but…”

                Max didn’t hear what he said next. The way he said it was nonchalant; like it wasn’t a big deal. It probably wasn’t a big thing for Daniel, Max told himself. For him, on the other hand…

                “Who’s all going?” Max tosses the covers aside and gets out of bed, stretching his body properly. He left his phone on the foot of the bed as he dug through his closet for a set of clothes fitting for a road trip; he had a feeling they weren’t flying, as it wasn’t entirely necessary.

                “A few friends of mine, you wouldn’t know them,” Daniel answers. Max settles for a pair of worn jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt, something that wouldn’t make the car ride unbearable.

                “I never know your friends,” Max retorts, tugging the jeans on and fastening them tightly around his hips. “I’ve only met, like, two of them. And they didn’t seem to like me very much.” He peels off the shirt he wore to bed and pulls the fresh one on, ruffling his hair into place.

                Daniel scoffs. “What are you talking about? They loved you.” Max rolls his eyes, picking up his phone and making his way to the bathroom down the hall from his bedroom.

                “Whatever you say.” Max runs a comb through his hair, flattening the messier parts and brushing his bangs up and out of his eyes. “Am I driving myself or going with you guys?”

                “I’ll be down in an hour, so be ready. I’m not waiting for you.” Max checks the time on his watch, which was lying by the sink. 11 am. _Did I really sleep that long?_

“Well, fortunately for you, I’m ready now,” Max says, fastening the watch around his left wrist.

                “That’s fantastic,” Daniel says sarcastically. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

                “Sounds good.” Max smiles as he hangs up, looking forward to spending a couple hours in a cramped car with Daniel. He briefly contemplates using some of the cologne he had purchased a while back but decided against it; he hardly ever wore it and he didn’t want Daniel to get suspicious. He settled on layering more deodorant and waited, not very patiently, for the knock on his door.

 

                An hour and a half later Max, Daniel and three of his closest friends are on the freeway, music blasting from the speakers and the five of them singing along in very out-of-tune voices. Max and Daniel sat side by side in the backseat of his friend James’ car, the bare skin of their legs touching. Max tried to act like it didn’t affect him; that everytime they hit a rough spot in the road, the extra pressure on his thigh did nothing. Houses and work buildings blurred past them, making Max feel a bit dizzy. He looks away from the window and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. He scrolled through his Instagram--where nothing interesting was happening--then checked his Twitter; again, nothing was going on. He clicks the device off and sighs, resting his head back against the seat. Daniel looks to him, smile fading to slight concern. He pats Max’s shoulder.

                “You good, mate?” he asks. Max nods.

                “I’m fine. Tired, that’s all.”

                “Well, we’ve got two hours. Rest for a bit. I don’t think any of us will judge,” Daniel says, patting Max’s knee in reassurance. He smiles tiredly and leans his head against the window, watching the sights of the French riviera speed past them. The sound of the car’s V-6 engine soothed Max’s racing mind and heart. He was nervous for what tonight would hold. There would, undoubtedly, be alcohol--plenty of it--and Max was known to lose all rational thought when he had enough of it in system. Everything will be fine, he told himself. _It’s not like we’re sharing a bed, right?_ Max yawns and closes his eyes, willing himself to abandon those thoughts and sink into sleep.

                When he woke, they were pulling into the parking lot of a grand hotel. He blinked open his eyes, then closed them immediately, the light of the sun reflecting off the glass of the building. He was too groggy to move, despite the pain in his neck. However, he is forced to move when someone--presumably Daniel--shakes him awake, gentle yet persistent. He groans and opens his eyes but he wasn’t looking out the window. Instead, he was looking out the windshield at the hotel before them; apparently, this hadn’t registered in his mind when he had first woken up. He lifts his head and looks to his right, his suspicions confirmed. Daniel was looking at him, smiling feebly.   

                “Morning,” he says. Max sits up right and stretches, yawning simultaneously.

                “Hey,” he answers, hoping to avoid the topic of him falling asleep on his teammate’s shoulder. “Is this it?”

                “It is,” James says from his spot behind the wheel. He shuts off the engine and takes the keys out of the ignition, gesturing for everyone to get out. Max stretched the rest of his body languidly in the sunlight and stared up at the towering structure, excitement for both the night ahead and spending time with Daniel warming his heart. Maybe it was worth the two hour drive, after all.

 

                “I don’t think I wished you happy birthday,” Max says drunkenly, stumbling down the hall to his and Daniel’s shared room. He had had way too much to drink, after a strict promise to himself not to. Daniel scoffs and waves his hand dismissively.           

                “Don’t worry about it. You coming down here with us was good enough.” His speech was slurred slightly and his cheeks flushed a light pink. Max found it adorable; charming, even.

                It takes Daniel several tries to open their hotel door, his hands shaking and fumbling with the keycard. Eventually, Max got tired of watching it and took the card from his hands, sliding it through the reader with ease. He looks over his shoulder at his teammate, smirking. “That’s how it’s done.”

                “Shut up,” Daniel retorts, pushing Max aside. The room was cold from the AC and it felt nice on Max’s heated skin. There were two beds in the suite, situated across from a television. Adjacent to the bedroom was a kitchen, equipped with standard appliances. Max tosses the keycard onto the nearby desk and flops onto the closest bed with a sigh, covering his face with a pillow. His stomach was starting to churn uncomfortably and he feared that, if he moved at all, he would vomit.

                The bed dips beneath Daniel’s weight as he perches on the edge beside his teammate, sighing. Max lifts the pillow from his face and smiles at Daniel. The change in lighting, no matter how subtle sent his stomach careening and he groans. He got up, clutching his stomach, and made his way to the bathroom on shaking legs. He barely made it before throwing up heavily into the toilet, coughing and trembling his way through it. After he was done, a gentle hand rests on his shoulder, massaging the muscles built up there. Max leans his forehead against the rim and closes his eyes.

                “I should not have had that much to drink,” Max says weakly, turning his head slightly to look at Daniel. The Aussie smiles and helps him stand up.

                “Yeah, you went a little overboard,” he agrees, escorting Max back to his bed. He throws the covers aside and helps Max beneath them, pushing his chest lightly to tell him to lie down. He does as he’s told, curling up in a tight ball with the comforter drawn up to his chin. Daniel sets about turning off all the lights--save the one next to the bed--then goes to the bathroom, returning a couple minutes later with a cup of water. Max rolls over and sits up slowly, accepting the glass and taking a hesitant sip of it. After a few more he begins to feel nauseous again and sets it on the bedside table, laying back down in the same curled up position. Daniel sits on the bed beside Max, grabbing the remote from the nightstand and turning the TV on.

                Bathed in the electronic-blue light of the television screen, Daniel looked irresistible. He had his head thrown back against the headboard, exposing the column of his neck. Max wanted nothing more than to kiss his way up it, finishing with a lingering kiss to his lips. Not only would it be a “happy birthday” surprise but it would also be a thank you for helping him a few minutes earlier.

                Instead, he settles for saying, “you’re amazing, you know that?”

                Daniel freezes for a second, then looks at the Dutchman beside him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “What?”

                Max swallows thickly, the paranoid part of his mind coming to the conclusion that it was the wrong thing to say. However, the alcohol-clouded part permitted him to continue. “I said you’re amazing. Not a lot of people would have, you know...brought me water after I had vomited my guts out.”

                “Oh, it’s just common courtesy,” Daniel says dismissively.

                “I’m serious.” Max pushes himself into a sitting position, looking at Daniel with earnest eyes. “It might not mean a lot to you but it means a lot to me.” At this point, Max had no control over what he was saying. The way Daniel had shown concern and cared for him after he was sick brought back a wave of emotions he hadn’t experienced in several years. He wanted to cry; wrap his arms around Daniel and never let him go.

                Daniel stared back at him, gaze flicking between his eyes and his mouth. “You mean it?”

                Max moved a bit closer, resting a hand on Daniel’s knee. He didn’t stop until he was just inches away from Daniel’s lips. He could smell the cheap tequila on his breath, feel the warmth of it ghosting over his skin; it was intoxicating.

                “I definitely mean it.” Just as Max was about to give Daniel the best kiss of his life, his stomach gave a very uncomfortable lurch. He groaned, clutched at his abdomen and moved away, looking at Daniel apologetically.

                “Now probably isn’t the time,” Daniel says softly, voice low. He still had shock written across his irises. Max only nods his assent and lays back down, back facing Daniel. His heart was pounding and a heat was pooled in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with sickness.

               

                Max wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep. All he knew that, when he woke up, Daniel was gone and his head hurt like a son of a bitch. Early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, stabbing his eyes and hurting his head even more. He rolls over onto his back and presses his fingers to his temples, willing the headache away for a few moments so he could think. _God, what did I do last night?_ He couldn’t remember anything after he and Daniel had left the bar, leaning on each other for support and laughing until their sides hurt. Max rests his hands on his chest and smiles at the memory, the familiar heat of affection burning in his stomach. He wished Daniel knew how he felt; that way, he could avoid the longing glances and simple excuses to touch him.

                How he wished Daniel knew.

  
  
  



	5. Hungarian Grand Prix--2017

Max was looking forward to the Hungarian Grand Prix, the tracks high speeds and manageable corners never failing to entertain him. He and Daniel had worked through the track multiple times on the simulators and both were feeling very confident after their satisfying practice and qualifying results. The track was alive with activity in the few hours until the race, both spectators and mechanics alike bustling around, making last minute preparations for the race ahead. Max had been at the track since five that morning, pacing the garage in his nervousness. Now, one and a half hours later, he was pulling on his racing suit in his driver room, anxiety flooding his mind. Daniel joined him as he was tying his shoes, entering the room with a dramatic sigh.

                “You good?” Max asks with a smile, looking up at his teammate briefly. He finishes the knot, then stands up. Daniel answers with a grunt and sets about changing into his fireproofs, no regard for his own privacy. Max blushes  and averts his gaze, checking himself out in the mirror and making sure everything looked good. They remain in silence until Daniel finishes dressing and only talk as they’re headed towards their garage, helmets under their arms.

                “Good luck today,” Daniel says, stopping at the entryway to his side of the garage. Max stops as well, shaking Daniel’s hand and clapping him on the shoulder.

                “Same to you, mate.” Max’s voice sounded higher than usual and he blushes, keeping his gaze away from the Aussie’s. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to retreat to his car and start the race early, that way he could avoid conversation with Daniel--politely--and drive his embarrassment away. He wanted to carry on a conversation with his teammate before a race, for once, and not fall victim to his nerves, both of being in the same room as Daniel and the pre-race anxiety. However, this was yet to happen.

                “Hopefully this weather stays,” Daniel says, bringing Max back to the present. He was leaning against the doorframe and staring up at the sky, shielding his eyes against the early-morning sun. “It would be bad news for all of us it if started raining.”

                Max scoffs. “Do you not remember Brazil last year? If anything, the rain would be an advantage.”

                Daniel shrugs. “Beginner’s luck.”

                Max laughs. “What do you consider a ‘beginner’? Less than three years of Formula One?”

                “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Daniel looks to his teammate, face lighting up with a smile. He grips Max’s shoulder and shakes him firmly, teasingly. “I’m only joking. You were great in Brazil, you’ll be great here--” The rest of Daniel’s compliments are cut off by one of his mechanics calling him over to check the car and confirm everything was to his standards. Daniel groans, gives Max one last clap on the shoulder for good luck, then leaves his teammate standing there in shock. Daniel had complimented his performance in Brazil! Yeah, he’d done it after it happened but it hadn’t, really, meant anything; just common courtesy. Now, however, hearing the praise from Daniel Ricciardo made his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat.

                Max shakes his head and shuffles to his side of the garage, finding a secluded corner and curling up against it. His skin burned where Daniel touched him and his heart was pounding. He inwardly groans and grips fistfuls of his hair in frustration. _What is happening to me? I shouldn’t have a crush on my teammate. Hell, I shouldn’t even have a crush on another man!_ Max knew he had to stop being so obvious, or else his father would find a way to remove him from Formula One, taking away everything he loved. He leans his head back against the wall and stares up at the ceiling. _Maybe this is just a phase._ Maybe he’s been so starved of affection he’s begun looking for it in his teammate, someone who should have been like an older brother to him.

                “That’s all this is,” Max murmurs to himself. “It’s just a phase. This will all be over in a few weeks.” _It has to be._ If his father found out about his feelings for his teammate, he would take his Red Bull seat and everything else he loved along with it.

 

                It seemed that was going to happen anyway; with or without his father’s help. Going into turn two, Max’s front brakes locked up and his car oversteered, sending him straight into his teammate’s side. Thankfully, Max hadn’t gotten the worst of it and continued on with the race, completely oblivious to what had happened behind him. Then, his race engineer’s voice came over the radio. “Daniel’s stopped. His race is over.” Max had expected to hear sympathy in his voice. Instead, all he heard was anger. When he crossed the finish line in fifth place, he didn’t feel happy at all; he only felt guilty. He had been the cause for Daniel’s retirement at one of his favorite races of the year. How was he ever going to make it up to him?

                Max was silent all through the process of returning his car to the garage, contemplating how he could apologize to his teammate. Daniel wasn’t going to be very happy to see him, that much was obvious in Max’s mind. He waved away his engineer--who warned him of a team meeting in a few minutes--and half-heartedly listened to a mechanic’s analysis of the car during the race, leaning against the front wing and staring at the ground in thought. Maybe he could offer to take Daniel out for drinks tonight? No, that was too far away--

                “Max, are you alright?” the mechanic asks, snapping his fingers in front of Max’s eyes. The Dutchman shakes his head and looks up.

                “Yeah, I’m great.” He pushes himself from the car. “Do we have any beers in the back fridge?”

                The mechanic looks at him quizzically for a moment, then gestures over his shoulder and nods. “There should be some Heinekens back there.” Max claps his shoulder in thanks as he walks past.

                True to his word, there were bottles of Heineken beer lining the fridge door, their green coloration grabbing Max’s attention. He takes two of them and shuts the door with his heel, making his way towards the team’s makeshift headquarters. His heart was pounding in his chest, both from adrenaline and the fear of what Daniel will say.

                The atmosphere in the room is thick with tension. The only sound that could be heard was that of hushed whispers. Nobody looked in Max’s direction as he entered the conference room, despite the fact that he was holding two bottles of alcohol. He scanned the near-capacity room, searching for the familiar dark head of curls. When he did spot them, it took a lot of mental slapping to get his feet to move.

                “Hey,” Max says, standing beside Daniel, who was sitting in a chair at the far end of the table. The Aussie only grunts in response. Max sets the beer down in front of him and takes the adjacent seat. “Listen, I’m really sorry about what happened. I brought you this to...show my apologies.” Max gestures to the beer. “Can we talk later? Privately?”

                Daniel looks to his teammate, eyes dark and critical. He drags his gaze over Max’s face, as if searching for any hint of a trick; which, Max reminded himself, is probably the case. He nods and accepts the beer, opening it the same way he had Monaco nearly a year ago. He takes a quick drink, then looks back to Max, eyes a bit softer. “We’ll talk after the meeting, alright? Meet me at the hotel?”

                Max is, genuinely, surprised at Daniel’s agreeing to talk with him and his surprise must have shown, as Daniel smiles faintly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do it. I’ll meet you at your room.” Max stands up, taking his beer with him, and claps Daniel on the back. He moves to a seat across the table, assuming Daniel wouldn’t want to be around Max more than necessary.

 

                The meeting went by far too slowly for Max’s liking. It, mainly, consisted of Christian berating Max for his being the cause of Daniel’s retirement and the Australian failing to stand up for his teammate. In fact, he barely spoke at all. Throughout the two hour meeting he said, maybe, a total of twenty words. As far as Max knew, he didn’t sing along to the music on the radio on his way back to the hotel, like he usually would. Max would have offered to drive Daniel back but he was swept away by reporters as soon as he left the conference room. When he asked around about his teammate, all he got was “I don’t know.”

                It was with an intense nervousness that Max knocked on Daniel’s door, heart beating in his throat and stomach churning uncomfortably. It took the Australian a few seconds to answer and, when he did, he didn’t seem particularly happy to see Max, as if he had forgotten about their meeting. However, his eyes didn’t hold quite as much anger as they did back at the track. They stared at each other for a few seconds, awkwardly standing in each other’s presence. Max shuffles his feet nervously.

                “What are you doing here?” Daniel asks, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms.

                “I told you I wanted to speak to you privately, remember?” Max questions, heart breaking a little.

                “I do remember,” Daniel answers, shifting his weight to one leg. “I just didn’t think you’d go through with it.”

                Max only nods. He stands there for a few more moments, waiting for Daniel to let him in. When he doesn’t, he looks straight into his eyes, standing a little taller. “May I come in, please?” Daniel steps out of the way and gestures dramatically for Max to enter.

                The hotel room was freezing due to the air conditioning that Daniel had failed to shut off and Max shivers involuntarily, wrapping his jacket tighter around his shoulders. The Aussie, angry though he may be, had enough heart to turn off the AC and open the blinds to allow the warm sunlight to filter through. Max sits at the foot of the bed and crosses his legs beneath him, while Daniel takes the chair opposite him, crossing one leg over the other.

                Max takes a deep breath, forcing himself to make eye contact with his teammate. “So...I guess I should start with an apology--”

                Daniel interrupts him by waving a hand dismissively, flicking his gaze between Max and the floor. The Dutchman found it endearing; in its own, frustrating sort of way. He was nervous, that much was clear. Most of the anger had left his expression, to be replaced with anxiety. “Your bringing me a beer was a good enough apology and I accept it. It wasn’t, entirely, your fault that my race ended.”

                “We both know it was,” Max persists. “If I hadn’t knocked you off the track, we wouldn’t be here right now. We could be in some bar, getting drunk off our asses and celebrating a  wonderful race--”

                “Max, listen to me, please,” Daniel says in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. “I think...I think we need to take a break, for a few weeks.”

                Those words made Max freeze. Had he heard him correctly? “I’m sorry...what?”

                “I think we need to take a break from each other. You know, do our own thing for a while, focus on the races ahead. This accident made me realize that…” Daniel scoffs and shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need a break. I’m going to spend the weeks we have off on my own and take the time to… go through some things.”

                Max furrowed his brow. Was Daniel being serious? Had he really messed up _that_ many times? Max hoped that this was a joke; some kind of cruel prank. However, When he searched the Aussie’s eyes for any hint of deception, he found nothing but sincerity. His heart gave a terrible lurch and his stomach fell. He felt like crying; in fact, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes already. He ducks his head and attempts to subtly wipe them away. Max nods, staring down at his lap. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s... probably a good idea.”

                They stay silent for a several moments, neither of them looking at each other. Eventually, Daniel says, “Max, I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this but...I’m just going through some stuff right now and this accident did nothing to help…” Max hears the rustling of clothes and the creaking of floorboards as Daniel moves from his chair to stand in front of his teammate. However, he doesn’t look up; he can’t face those gorgeous brown eyes again, knowing Daniel needed a break from him “I’m sorry.”

                Max stays silent. He doesn’t trust himself enough to speak without his voice breaking and tears spilling from his eyes. He keeps his head down and simply nods, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket. Daniel sighs and claps him on the shoulder. Then, he leaves. As soon as the door shuts, Max lets the tears fall, hard and heavy. He doesn’t bother holding back the whimpers that rise from his throat; instead, he grabs a pillow and sobs into the softness of it, pretending it was Daniel who was holding him and whispering that everything will be okay.          

                Max tries to calm himself down by repeating that this show of emotions was only temporary; that, in a few days, he would have moved on and any feelings he might have had for Daniel were just a side-effect of spending most of his racing career around him. That seemed to stop the tears but it did nothing to fix the crack in his heart.

  



	6. Malaysian Grand Prix--2017

Max had never felt this terrible. As soon as he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn’t. His head was pounding and the muscles in his arms hurt more than he had ever experienced. He groans and covers his eyes with the palms of his hands, rolling over to face the darker side of the room. He simply stared at the wall, willing all the pain in his body to go away.  He wanted to believe the pain in his arms was caused by yesterday’s practice but the churning of his stomach made him think otherwise. He sits up as slowly as possible and tosses the covers aside, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. He hung his head for a few moments, squeezed his eyes shut and gagged. He covers his mouth with his hand and stumbles to the bathroom, blindly reaching out for the walls to guide his way.

Max falls to his knees in front of the bathtub and heaves once again before bringing up everything in his stomach. He had never hurt so bad in his life. The effort of holding himself up on the side of the bath was too much and he collapses against it, resting his head against the rim. He felt like crying; his stomach, head, arms and legs hurt like nothing he had ever felt before. He moans weakly and lifts his head up again, throwing up once more.

“Fuck me,” Max says, spitting and reaching out to turn on the water to wash the mess away. He turned around and leaned against the tub while the water washed his sick down the drain. His mouth still tasted of bile but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up, afraid he wouldn’t be able to. He rests his head back and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths. His head was still pounding but it didn’t feel as bad as it did when he first woke up. The sound of the running water was soothing to his mind and he allowed himself to relax a little. When he began to drift to sleep, he jolted back to the present, groggily looking around him. He inhales deeply and pushes himself up, legs shaking. He turns off the water--the vomit having been washed away--and shuffles out of the bathroom, rubbing the back of his neck.

He sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for his phone on the nightstand, his first instinct to text Daniel and tell him what was wrong. However, just as he was about to unlock his phone, he remembered their deal. That thought alone made his stomach hurt again. He ran his thumb along the screen, staring at the wall in thought. He could always call Carlos; they were staying on the same floor, after all. Max shakes his head. He didn’t like the thought of anyone except for Daniel taking care of him and the thought of Carlos brushing his bangs out of his eyes made him sick to his stomach. Max sighs and lays back on the bed, resting both hands--as well as his phone--on his stomach. He was sure that Daniel would forgive him if he called; he wasn’t that mean…

 _Screw it,_ Max thought, pushing himself up into a sitting position and crossing his legs beneath him. He unlocks his phone and scrolls through his contacts until he comes upon Daniel’s name, hesitating over the number for a moment before pressing it. He raises the phone to his ear and waits impatiently for Daniel’s voice on the other end.

“Max?” the Aussie asks after a moment, voice neither angry nor upset; he sounded more concerned, than anything.

“Hey, Daniel. I know we had a deal but--” Max begins, cut off by a sudden bout of coughing and retching.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Max answers, wiping his eyes with his free hand. “Yeah, I’m just great.”

“You don’t sound great,” Daniel says. There’s rustling on the other end. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sick,” Max says weakly, running a hand through his hair.

“Like, what kind of sick?” Daniel asks.

“I don’t know. I thought it was food poisoning, but I think it might be flu,” Max answers.

“Shit. Is anyone there with you?”

“No. That’s why I’m calling. I know we had a deal and I hate to break it but you’re the closest person to me--”

“Shh, it’s fine,” Daniel soothes. Max can, faintly, hear the jingle of keys and the sound of a hotel door opening. “I’ve been meaning to call you, anyway.”

Max inhales sharply, freezing for a moment. “You have?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t right of me to say those things to you and I feel terrible. Just stay in your hotel room and I’ll be there in a few minutes, alright?”

“Okay,” Max says, smiling to himself. “Thank you, Daniel.”

“Of course. I’d never let my best friend feel like shit alone.”

 

Daniel’s “few minutes” actually turned out to be a half an hour. Max was laying in bed, curled up on his side and watching something on the TV, trying to distract himself in any way possible. When he heard the knock on the door, he squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before rolling over and getting out of bed. He had put on the warmest clothes he had brought--black sweatpants and a t-shirt--and was still chilled to the bone. He shuffles across the room to the door, opening it a crack to see who it was. Daniel was smiling back at him, holding up a white grocery bag. Max unlatches the door from its chain and allows the Aussie inside.

“How you feeling?” Daniel asks, setting the bag on the end of the bed. Max shuts the door and makes his way back to the bed, crawling beneath the covers again with chattering teeth.

“I could be better,” Max answers. Daniel sits at the foot of the bed next to the bag and begins taking things out of it: a thermometer, Advil, Pepto Bismol and canned soups. A wave of affection washes over Max upon seeing everything Daniel had gotten; it felt nice knowing someone cared about him.

“Yeah, the flu sucks,” Daniel says. He opens the box with the thermometer and moves up the bed to sit closer to Max. “Open.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Max says but complies, opening his mouth slightly to let the thermometer rest in his mouth.

“I want to. Think of it as a payment,” Daniel kept his hand on the end of the thermometer, waiting for a minute before taking it out and reading the temperature display. Concern flashes in his eyes for a brief moment.

“How bad is it?” Max asks.

“102.3,” Daniel answers, looking at Max with pity.

“Definitely the flu,” Max sighs. “Shit!”

“Hey, calm down,” Daniel says, reaching out to rest his hand lightly on Max’s arm. “You’ll be okay. You can still race tomorrow.”

“Yeah, what happens if I vomit while driving? Or I crash because I was choking on my own phlegm? Tomorrow’s gonna suck.”

“Well, all I can say is that you need to eat. Lucky for you,” Daniel says, standing up and returning to his pile on the end of the bed. He grabs a can of soup and holds it up, a small smile on his face. “I’ve got what you need.”

Max chuckles, ducking his head to hide the blush on his cheeks. _God, I love you._ “Thanks, Daniel.”

“Of course,” the Aussie responds, grabbing one of the foam coffee cups from beside the microwave, opening the soup can and pouring its contents into the cup. He adds a little bit of water then places it in the microwave, setting a timer for two minutes. He turns back to Max, who was laying back down and had the comforter drawn up to his chin. Daniel felt a pang of sadness and he wanted nothing more than to lay down next to him and hold him in his arms, stroking his hair until he felt better. _Wait…_

The microwave beeping drew him from his thoughts and he hurriedly turns away, glad for the excuse to hide the redness of his face. He had, of course, dealt with these kinds of feelings before but they had just been fleeting moments, a weakness on his part; this was something else entirely. He takes the cup from the microwave and takes a deep breath, then returns to Max’s side.

“You’ll have to drink it,” Daniel says, helping Max sit up and handing him the cup. “I didn’t think to get silverware.”

“That’s fine,” Max says feebly, raising the cups to his lips and taking a tentative sip. The warmth of the soup felt wonderful to his chilled body and he wants, desperately, to drink the whole thing at once. However, if he’s learned anything from his mother, it was that you never do that when sick.

“I’m sorry you feel so bad,” Daniel says, sitting next to Max’s legs and resting a gentle hand on his knee. The simple touch felt electric to Max, despite the illness reigning over his body.

“Thanks, Daniel,” Max says, taking another swallow of the soup. “I’m glad you’ve forgiven me enough to be here.”

Daniel scoffs. “Of course, Max.” They fall silent for a couple minutes, Max drinking his soup and Daniel staring at the blankets. “Are you going to qualify today?”

Max shrugs. “I have to, don’t I? A little sickness never stopped anyone.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

Max looks at Daniel, surprise written across his face. “Why are you so concerned all of a sudden?”

Daniel fumbles for the answer, which he didn’t even know himself. He felt this natural instinct to help Max and take care of him; almost like a motherly instinct.

             Or a lover’s caring nature.

 

                Qualifying for Max was a shit show. He was feeling great for the first two sessions; energetic even. Then, halfway through his run in Q3, his stomach decided to give out and he nearly vomited after he crossed the finish line, securing himself a third place spot on the grid tomorrow. He had never driven faster in his life. He didn’t wait for the crew to get his car in the garage before, clumsily, detaching the steering wheel and jumping out of the car, doubling over to vomit next to the wall. He braced a hand against the metal and spits before standing upright, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A few mechanics run up to him, one of them placing a hand on his shoulder while guiding him back to the shade of the garage. He gratefully sat down in the chair offered to him and throws his head back, waiting for Daniel to finish his run before they went back to the hotel.

 

           “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Christian asked when Max entered the garage the next morning, breathing deeply and sniffling every few seconds. He had called ahead during the drive to the track to warn him that he wasn’t feeling as good as he wanted but that he was still going to drive the race. He already changed from his sponsor gear to his racing suit which, he hoped, was enough to convince Christian. Daniel had taken his temperature before they left, which had read 99 degrees rather than 102; that proved he was healthy enough to drive.

                “I’m racing today,” Max said, reaching for his helmet on the nearby counter. “I’ve got a third place grid spot and I’m not letting a bit of sickness get in my way.”

                Christian raises his hands in defeat. “Alright. I’m not stopping you. Be careful, yeah?”

                Max chuckles. “You’re the second person to have told me that.” He puts his helmet on and his in the process of securing the straps when someone claps him on the shoulder. He wheels around and laughs upon seeing Daniel behind him, pulling him into a one-armed embrace.

                “How are you feeling?” Daniel asks when he pulls away, looking Max up and down, as if assessing him for any illness.

                “Better than last night,” Max responds, securing the helmet straps. “I’m ready to take that win.”

                Daniel claps him on the shoulder again. “That’s my boy.”

 

                A podium had never felt so great.

                Max was overjoyed as he took his place on the top step, raising his hands above his head in triumph. To make it even better, Daniel was standing next to him, having earned a third-place podium. Max accepted his trophy and champagne with gratefulness. Him and Daniel ignored everyone else around them as they directed the spray of champagne towards the other, the cold substance cool and soothing to Max’s burning skin. While he was taking a drink of his, Daniel poured his over Max’s head, coating him in the sticky alcohol. It was pure bliss and Max couldn’t have asked for a better day.

                Daniel gazed at Max with loving eyes after he finished coating him in champagne. The Dutchman was soaking wet and his bangs clung to his forehead, drops falling from his eyelashes. Daniel wanted to kiss the champagne off his lips, comb it from his hair with his fingers and hold him in his arms as he rides the aftershocks of a win while being sick. Max deserved that; and Daniel wanted to be the one to give him that.

                While Daniel, Max and Lewis posed for photos on the podium, one thought was running through Daniel’s mind. He didn’t care about the celebrations or the glory earning a podium would bring to the team. All he thought was:

                _Oh God. I’m in love with my teammate._

 

 “Nice job today,” Daniel says, helping Max down the hallway to his hotel room.  The younger driver had begun feeling faint during the celebrations and had asked Daniel to take him home, fearing the worst. He could barely stand on his own, the adrenaline wearing off and the aches of sickness burdening his legs. He grunts in response, leaning most of his weight against the older driver.

                “Keycard’s in my pocket,” Max mumbles as they near his door, letting his eyes fall shut. He was exhausted and he felt like throwing up; not that it was anything new. Daniel supports Max with one hand while he reaches into the Dutchman’s front pocket with the other, furrowing his brow when he couldn’t find the card. “Other pocket.”

                Daniel pauses, unsure if he heard Max correctly. Then he, hesitantly, reaches into his back pocket and takes the card gingerly in his hands, trying to avoid touching Max’s ass. He swipes the card through the reader and pushes the door open, guiding Max ahead of him. He falls on the bed immediately, burrowing his face in the pillows and groaning. Daniel smiles and shrugs his jacket from his shoulders, draping it over the desk chair. He grabs the thermometer from the desk and joins Max on the bed, shaking the younger man.

                “Come on, Max,” Daniel pleads. “We need to check your temperature.” Max moans but rolls over, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He opens his mouth slightly and Daniel puts the glass between his lips, holding it there for thirty seconds.

                “How bad is it now?” Max asks when Daniel removes the thermometer, shivering as if in answer.

                “103.4,” Daniel says with a slight sigh. He stands up and tosses the thermometer back on the desk, making for the bathroom. He takes one of the white cloths and runs it under the cold tap water, soaking it all the way through. He wrings out a bit of the water and returns to Max’s side. “Go ahead and hold this on your forehead.” Max does as he’s told--though he glances at Daniel questioningly--and the Aussie retrieves his coat from the desk chair to drape it around Max’s shoulders.

                “Is it alright if I lay down?” Max questions feebly, already doing so without Daniel’s answer. He crawls beneath the thick comforter and wraps Daniel’s jacket more tightly around his shoulders. He rolls over on his side and makes sure the compress is secured on his forehead before closing his eyes. Daniel smiles at him for a couple seconds before making for the door, planning on going back to his hotel room to drink and think about these feelings. However, he is interrupted by Max’s quiet voice. “You know, I’d be warmer if you lay beside me.”

                Daniel’s breath catches and he nearly chokes. He turns back to his teammate, hoping the shock wasn’t clearly written across his face. “Is...uhm...is that okay with you?” Max nods and Daniel returns to the bed on shaking legs. He had, deep down, hoped that Max would ask him to stay, to keep him company. He didn’t imagine it would be like _this._

                Daniel crawls beneath the comforter and cuddles up against Max’s back, draping his arm over his stomach and pulling him flush against his chest. Max hums contentedly and wriggles around a bit, trying to get comfortable. “Thanks, Daniel.”

                “Anytime, mate.” Daniel answers. Max’s breathing evens out immediately and Daniel can’t help but place a quick kiss on the top of his head, breathing in the scent of champagne and shampoo. This day had gone far better than expected.


	7. Perth, Australia--2018

Australia was different during the off season. Rather than motorhomes and press duties, Max could enjoy the beautiful coast and hiking trails, completely devoid of worrying about the race ahead. He had seen the sights of Australia during the Grands Prix but had been too preoccupied to appreciate the real beauty.

                During New Year’s, when him and Daniel were celebrating in Monaco, he had asked Max if he wanted to spend some time in Australia before the race; “get to know the environment”, as he put it. Max, obviously, accepted and they agreed he would fly out exactly two weeks before first practice. Max had waited anxiously for the next three months, daydreaming about what they would do for two weeks. He knew it was very cliche and stupid of him but he imagined the two of them walking along the beach, laughing and talking, until Daniel stops and kisses Max with more passion than should be humanely healthy.

                Now, as he was flying above the blue-green waters of Australia, his stomach churned with nervous energy and he found that he couldn’t sit still. Every few seconds he would tap his foot on the ground, fiddle with the sleeve of his jacket or bite the inside of his cheek. _Why am I this nervous? We’ve spent time together before._ But, that was before Max realized his feelings; back when Daniel’s smile was just that: a smile.

                “We’ll be landing at Perth Airport in five minutes,” the flight attendant says over the intercom, voice light and cheery. “Please, fasten your seatbelts and turn off your cell-phones.” There is a click that sounds throughout the cabin as she puts the microphone on its stand and Max takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back. He pulls out his phone and sends Daniel a text saying that he’s landing in a few minutes--which he knows won’t reach him yet. He can’t help but smile as he shuts off his phone and messes with it impatiently. He was finally here and his heart was nearly beating out of his chest.

                The G-forces pushing against Max only made his stomach feel worse; just a few more minutes and he’ll be in Daniel’s arms, even if it was only for a few seconds. He’ll take anything he could get. The runway rushed towards him and he nearly gagged as as the plane touched down, throwing him forward slightly. It wasn’t unlike stopped abruptly in a Formula One car. The plane slowed down and followed the tarmac to the other end of the airport, parking at its designated gate. Max hurried to stand up and work his way through the isle of seats, hastily opening the overhead compartment and grabbing his carry-on. He waits, albeit anxiously, for the people ahead of him to file off the plane, following them into the warm Australian sun. He was already beginning to feel the jet lag, the seven hour time difference making him feel more exhausted than he already was.

                The air inside the building was cold and soothing to Max’s burning skin. It wasn’t quite as busy as Max had thought. He had been expecting overcrowded gates and hallways. Instead, he could walk to baggage claim without being bombarded by media. He and Daniel had done a good job of hiding their plans.

                Max had to wait near twenty minutes before he could find his luggage; fifteen of which he spent in the bathroom fixing his hair and having a panic attack. He had to talk himself through it in front of the mirror, probably looking insane while doing it. _Why does this even scare me? It shouldn't’ be this bad, it’s just Daniel._ That’s what he kept telling himself and, when he finally had the courage to leave the bathroom, his heart was no longer threatening to implode.

                That was, until he spotted Daniel’s familiar dark curls, waiting by baggage claim. His heart went into overdrive again and his face turned a bright red but he still kept moving, reaching into his pocket to mess with his phone. “Daniel!”

                The Aussie looks up when Max calls his name, face breaking into a bright smile when he sees his teammate. Max’s stomach flipped as Daniel reaches for his hand and pulls him into a tight embrace, squeezing him tightly before stepping back, still holding Max by the shoulders. “Max! It’s wonderful to see you again, mate.” Daniel drops his hands, brushes the hair out of his eyes, then shoves them into the pockets of his jacket.

                “Likewise,” Max says, looking behind him to the conveyor belt where is luggage would, soon, be. “How are you?”

                Daniel shrugs. “Boring, as usual. I’m ready to get back in the car but, you know...still got a few weeks.”

                “Yeah, I’m ready to get back to racing. All this casual living is too quiet.”

                Daniel smiles and gestures for him to follow. “Come on. I’d imagine you want to find your stuff.”

                “Kind of important, yeah,” Max says, trailing behind Daniel. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait more than a minute for his back to appear, black and simple. Max reaches for it but Daniel stops him, insisting he carry it back to the car. “You don’t have to do that.”

                “I know,” Daniel responds, already making for the exit. “Just being courteous.” Max stands still for a few moments, watching Daniel walk away with a grin on his face. _How does he keep getting more and more charming?_

                As they neared the airport’s exit, Daniel and Max had to shield themselves from fans wanting to talk with them. At one point, there had been so many people that max was on the verge of another panic attack and wanted nothing more than to hide behind his teammate and let him deal with them. Fortunately, Daniel, sort of, read his mind and politely dragged him away into the hot outdoors.

                “Are you staying at a hotel or something?” Daniel questioned once they crossed the lot to a large parking garage. Daniel’s car was waiting on the bottom leve; an Aston Martin Vantage. _Of course he’d stay on-brand during the off-season._

                “I will once I find a place,” Max answeres, standing by the passenger’s side door of the car and waiting for Daniel to unlock it. “I didn’t look anywhere, since I wasn’t sure how long I’d be staying.” That was a lie. Max, of course, booked a hotel for the two weeks he’d be there but he didn’t want to stay there unless he had to. Knowing Daniel, he would probably offer his teammate a place to stay; which was more than fine by Max.

                “You could always stay with me,” Daniel says, tossing Max’s bag into the backseat, then settling down behind the wheel. Max gets into the passenger’s seat and sets his backpack on the floorboards, fastening the seatbelt across his chest. “I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind.”

                “They wouldn’t?” Max asks. “I’ve never met them, how would you know that?” He had half expected Daniel to have his own place in Australia; somewhere he could go during the off-season that was closer to home. Then again, Max didn’t know Daniel’s family too well.

                “You think I don’t talk about you?” Daniel asks, putting the car in reverse and backing slowly out of the parking spot. “They’re dying to meet you.” Max smiles and looks out the window, hoping to hide his red cheeks.

                “If it’s not a problem, I’d be happy to stay with you,” Max eventually says. “Get to know your part of town.”

                “You’re going to know all of Western Australia like the back of your hand, once the week is through,” Daniel responds, looking at Max and flashing him a smile. “I’ve got a lot of things to show you.”

                Max grinned at Daniel’s proud tone. He was going to show Max his home country--his pride and joy, second to his car--just the two of them. “I can’t wait.”

                And he truly couldn’t.

 

                It turns out Daniel’s parents lived in a neighborhood near the coast, surrounded by oceanic restaurants and sandy beaches. Max was awestruck when Daniel pulled into the driveway, gaping at the lovely house before him. The exterior was painted a soft cream color, while the roof tiles were a dark red. It was a two-story house, with trees and bushes bordering it. The lawn was a bright green and Max took great care not to step on it when he got out of the car, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Daniel, once again, carries his suitcase to the door for him.

                “You, really, don’t have to do that,” Max mutters as they stand outside the front door.  He was beginning to feel nervous, afraid that Daniel’s parents wouldn’t like him; or, maybe, they’d think they were dating and Daniel would react negatively.

                “Don’t worry about it, really,” Daniel reassures, ringing the doorbell a few times in quick succession. “You’re my guest, it’s how things are done.” Max looks to his feet. He can hear the sound of footsteps from inside the house, steadily growing closer. The door opens to reveal a woman with dark, curly hair--much like Daniel’s--and a kind face, who Max took to be Daniel’s mother.

                “Hey!” the woman exclaims, pulling her son into a tight hug. “How was Max’s flight?”

                “Why don’t you ask him?” Daniel answers, stepping out of his mom’s embrace and looking to his teammate. “Max, this is my mother, Grace.” Max simply smiles as the woman takes his hand and shakes it firmly, her grip surprisingly strong.

                “It’s so wonderful to meet you, Max,” she says, gesturing for them to come inside. “Daniel talks about you all the time.”

                “All good things, I hope?” Max says jokingly, following Daniel into the house. His voice was scratchy, only adding to his embarrassment.

                “Of course, love,” Grace says, leading them through the front hallway and into the living room. The place was, somehow, both spacious and cozy at the same time. The natural light filtering through the curtains created the illusion of openness, while the darker furniture provided a sense of comfort. “He never shuts up about you.”

                “Oh, come on,” Daniel says, resting Max’s suitcase against a chair and sitting down on the couch beside it. “I think you’re over exaggerating.” Max chuckles, feeling oddly out of place. He stands next to the chair with his suitcase, anxiously rubbing his wrists. Daniel seems to notice and gives Max a questioning look.

                “I don’t know what to do,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not very good with people’s parents.”

                Daniel smiles and pushes himself up. “Fortunately, you won’t have to be around them long. I was planning on spending the rest of the day around town. Maybe explore a few beaches. Unless you’re too tired, obviously.”

                Max hurriedly shakes his head, eager to spend some time with Daniel after a few weeks of little contact. “I’m fine. Exploring sounds great.” It was only noon, after all; it would be strange for him to fall asleep now. Daniel smiles excitedly and leads him back into the entrance hall.

                “I’ll meet you out there. I’ve just got to grab something.” Daniel gestures upstairs and hurries away, leaving Max confused and a bit frightened. He turns to the front door, opens it and steps back into the sunlight, leaving the door cracked open. He straightens the invisible wrinkles in his shirt as he makes his way down the driveway to Daniel’s car, circling around the front and getting into the passenger’s seat. The black leather burned beneath him and he shifted uncomfortably, digging his phone out of his pocket to distract him while waiting for Daniel. He scrolled through his Instagram and Twitter feeds--where nothing interesting was happening--before opening his Spotify and putting his summer playlist on shuffle.

                It took a few songs for Daniel to show up, jogging down the driveway, seemingly, empty handed. He opens the driver’s side door and steps into the car. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to take that long.” He puts the key into the ignition and starts the engine, then fastens his seatbelt.

                “Don’t worry about it,” Max answers, stopping his music. “Where are we going first?”

                Daniel puts the car in gear, checks his mirrors, then backs into the street before answering. “Are you hungry? I know a wonderful place on the coast you’d like.”

               

                After they enjoyed one of the best meals--in Max’s opinion--together, the two of them journeyed through Perth, stopping at any shops they found interesting. They started at the part of town farthest from the coast and worked their way closer. Daniel didn’t hold back when it came to showing Max his home town, insisting they explore everything.  He had been particularly persistent when he spotted a brewery, claiming they had the best beers in all of Australia. Max had, after a while, gave in and joined Daniel in the bar, coming out empty handed. Daniel claimed he had to use the bathroom and returned a few minutes later with a brown bag in his hands; Max pretended not to notice.

                The sun was setting by the time they, finally, stopped at a beach; one with a rocky cliff that overlooked the ocean. The sunset reflected off the blue-green water beautifully, creating the perfect opportunity for a photoshoot, if Max was into that kind of thing. Daniel told him to wait on a rock a few meters from the car, while he got something from the trunk. Max did and sat cross-legged on the rock, decided to take a couple photos with his phone. He was shielding the screen against the sun with his hand, analyzing the photos when Daniel sat next to him, dangling his feet off the edge and handing Max an open bottle of beer. He accepts it with a smile, lifting it to his lips and taking a drink. The liquid tasted bitter at first, followed by a sweet aftertaste. It was good, Max would admit that. He takes another drink--this one sweeter than the last--then checks the label on the bottle.

                “It’s from the brewery I told you about,” Daniel says, taking a drink of his own. “Pretty good, isn’t it?”

                Max stares at his bottle, chasing the tastes in his mouth to come to a conclusion. “Yeah, it’s decent. Not my favorite--”

                Daniel grins and punches his arm lightly. “You like it. You just won’t admit it.”

                Max chuckles. “Alright. I do like it. You happy?” Daniel doesn’t answer. Max turns to him and the Aussie quickly looks away, clearing his throat and pretending he was admiring the sunset.

                “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Max questions, looking ahead of him. Daniel hums in agreement and the two fall silent, watching the spectacle before them. Max took another sip of his beer and turned to look at Daniel, who was already looking at him with a fond expression on his face. Max blushes deeply but doesn’t look away, too caught in the beauty of Daniel’s eyes. “What?”

                “Nothing,” Daniel answers, shaking his head and averting his gaze, looking down at the beer in his lap. “Just...nothing.” Max’s heart flutters, skipping far too many beats for it to be healthy. He shrugs  and looks back at the sunset, running his thumb over the top of the bottle.

                He freezes when something warm and soft presses against the corner of his mouth, lingering there too long for it to be something natural. Max inhales sharply, fire burning in the pit of his stomach. He looks over when the warmth is gone, looking at Daniel with wide eyes. The Aussie was looking at him the same way, lips turned up slightly and a pink tinge to his cheeks. He blinks and looks down shyly.

                “I’m sorry,” he says eventually, pushing himself to a standing position. Max shakes his head, grabs his wrist and pulls him back down, staring into the gorgeous amber of Daniel’s eyes.          “Don’t be sorry,” Max says, still gripping his wrist. He wants nothing more than to intertwine their fingers, wraps his arms around Daniel’s shoulders and hold him close. However, he restrains himself, unsure if Daniel wants that. They stare at each other for, what felt like, hours, searching the depths of each other’s eyes for any underlying emotions. When they finally do look away, both of their faces are painted a deep shade of red and their hearts are beating at 200 miles an hour.


	8. Azerbaijan Grand Prix--2018

The build-up to the Azerbaijan Grand Prix was full of anxiety and anticipation. Max always looks forward to Baku. There was something about racing on a street course--that wasn’t Monaco--that sent his heart pounding. It would be the same at the end of the race as well, just for a different reason.

                They were nearing the final lap of the race, Max and Daniel locked in a frustrating battle for fifth place. Daniel followed his teammate through every corner and straight the track had to offer for far too many laps, eventually growing impatient. When they rounded the last corner and sped onto the one straight, he saw his opportunity. They were less than a foot apart, Max’s slipstream giving Daniel all the boost he needed to make the pass as soon as a gap opened. When he saw it, only one thought crossed his mind: go for it. He gave no consideration to Max moving over and how much of a boost his slipstream gave him.

                It was a terrible miscalculation.

                Daniel tried to break when he saw Max moving to the left but he didn’t have enough air resistance. Instead of ending up in front of his teammate, he ran into the back of his car. Max’s rear end lifted off the track and Daniel’s momentum turned him around, so that he was facing the opposite direction. Without anything else to do, the two of them let their cars drift into the run-off zone.

                “Son of a bitch,” Max growled under his breath, fumbling with the fastenings on his seatbelt. He stood up once they were free and stepped over the side of the cockpit, unbuckling his helmet and slipping it off, along with the balaclava. He looks over his shoulder to Daniel’s car, where his teammate was still behind the wheel. Max felt a brief twinge of panic, fearing the worst. He takes a few steps towards him, taking the earpieces out. Thankfully, as if sensing Max’s approach, Daniel unfastens the seatbelt and gets out of his car. They look at each other for a couple seconds, interrupted by the arrival of a transport vehicle and marshals.

                “You guys alright?” one of the marshals asks.

                “Yeah, we’re fine,” Daniel answers. Max was surprised to hear that he sounded positive, not a trace of anger in his tone.

                “Good. We’ll take your cars back while you go to medical, alright?” Daniel gives him a thumbs up and makes for the transport, Max following confusedly in his wake.

                They were silent all through the ride back to the pits and their examinations, only glancing at each other for brief moments. Once they’re given the all clear, Daniel and Max head back to their driver room. Once again, they don’t speak.

                “I’m really sorry, Daniel,” Max says once they’re in the privacy of their room, closing the door behind him. “I should’ve let you overtake me.”

                “No, you shouldn’t have,” Daniel responds, sitting on the bench and taking off his shoes. “It was stupid of me to have even tried that maneuver.”        

                “It wasn’t,” Max says, kicking off his own shoes and unzipping his suit. “There was a gap there that I should’ve let you have. Instead, I was selfish.”

                “You were just trying to protect your race,” Daniel says reassuringly. Max scoffs and turns his back to Daniel, stripping off his suit completely, leaving his white fireproofs.

                “I don’t think protecting my race would have involved the both of us crashing out...can you hand me my shirt?” Max peels the fireproof top over his head, the cool air of the room soothing his burning skin. He turns around and accepts the sponsor shirt Daniel hands him, nodding in thanks.

                “It was just defense, Max,” Daniel says exasperatedly. “Don’t worry about it.”

                “I’m _going_ to worry about it, Daniel,” Max exclaims, tugging the shirt over his head and torso. “The team told me after Hungary that if I didn’t fix things, they’d kick me out.”

                “They won’t kick you out.” Daniel sheds his fireproof pants and reaches for a pair of jeans on the nearby counter. “They know how good you are.”

                Max stays silent, shucking off his own pants and trading them for a pair of dark jeans. He turns his back to Daniel once again as he pulls them on, tightening them around his hips. “They’re not going to looks past my mistakes. You know how they are.”

                “Max, listen to me,” Daniel says. Max turns his head just enough to see his teammate out of the corner of his eye, the upper half of his body exposed and glistening with sweat. His breathing catches and he looks away. “What happened out there was all part of racing. We both took a risk and it ended badly, so what? We’ll get over it and move on.”

                “ _You’ll_ move on.” Max turns around and puts his hands on his hips. “I’ll be forced to retire the rest of the season and that’ll be the end of my career--”

                “Max, come on--”

                “No, Daniel, I want you to listen to me.” Max steps closer, stopping just a few inches from his teammate. “What _I_ did out there will reflect negatively on _my_ image. You will continue to be the team’s golden boy while I’ll be forced to watch from the sidelines.”

                Daniel scoffs. “You know that’s not true.”

                “It is true!” Max shouts. “Now, accept my apology and we can get this over with. I’ll talk with Christian and--” Max is stopped by Daniel’s hand cupping his face, forcing him to stay still. He was wearing a neutral expression but his eyes held something more. Excitement? Pity? Fear?

                “What are you doing?” Max asks shakily.

                “I know you’re upset and I understand that,” Daniel soothes, voice quiet. “But you have to shut up, stop thinking negatively.”

                “I’m sorry,” Max says after a moment, voice cracked. His heart was pounding and warmth pooled in his stomach. “I’m just used to messing everything up and if things go wrong I get punished, even if--” Daniel shushes him, moving ever closer. Max can feel the heat of his breath ghosting over his lips and he sighs, desperately wanting his teammate to close the gap.

                “I’m going to tell you one more time,” Daniel whispers, brushing his lips against Max’s. “Shut up.”

                To emphasize his point, Daniel pushes their lips together. Max whimpers, the soft warmth overwhelming to his mind until he could think of nothing else. He, tentatively, wraps his arms around Daniel’s neck, closes his eyes and draws him closer, angling his head to deepen the kiss. They stay like that for several moments, taking in each other’s warmth and comfort. Max runs his hands down Daniel’s back to rest on his hips and pulls away just enough to rest their foreheads together. Max is absolutely breathless, chest rising and falling as if he were drowning.

                “I’m sorry,” he whispers once he finds the strength to speak. Daniel pulls him into a tight embrace, rubbing circles on his back. Max nuzzles the side of the Aussie’s neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and expensive cologne that, somehow, managed to cling to his skin.

                “I forgive you, love,” Daniel murmurs, stepping back and holding Max at arm’s length.

                “So, what does this mean?” Max questions, blushing deeply and refusing to make eye contact. Daniel chuckles and tilts Max’s head up with his index finger under his chin.

                “Dinner tonight? Just the two of us?”

                Max smiles shyly, looking into Daniel’s eyes. “That sounds lovely. Simply lovely.”


	9. Ibiza--2018

Max paced his living room nervously, biting his nails and listening for the sound of Daniel knocking on his door. Over dinner a week ago, after the chaos that was Baku, both Max and Daniel agreed they needed a bit of a break from the racing scene; at least for a few days. Ibiza was as good a place as any to blow off some steam. It was far enough reserved from the racing world that they could walk around without being bombarded by media and, if they spent the night out with some of Max’s friends in Ibiza, nobody would suspect a thing. Plus, they were going to be racing in Spain a few days later, anyway; it would make things a lot easier.

                Finally, Max hears the knocking he’d been waiting for and hurries to the door, hoping he didn’t look as anxious as he felt.

                “Morning,” Daniel says cheerfully, pulling Max into a tight embrace before kissing his forehead.

                “Morning,” Max responds, stepping back to grab his suitcase from its spot by the door. “You ready for a few days of bad decisions?”

                “Born ready,” Daniel says, taking Max’s suitcase from him and setting it next to his own against the wall.

                “I’ll meet you down at the car in a few minutes,” Max says, gesturing over his shoulder. “I’ve just got to grab something.”

                “Is this a trick to get me to take your stuff?” Daniel calls after Max.

                “You got it!” Max yells back, smiling to himself as he enters his bedroom. He crosses the room to the nightstand next to his bed and digs through the contents, pulling a small leather wallet, as well as a black box, from the top drawer. He shoves the wallet into his back pocket and tucks the box into his jacket, returning to the kitchen to fetch his keys and leaving the apartment. In his excitement, he almost forgot to lock the front door and ran back upstairs, groaning in frustration.

                “What took you so long?” Daniel asks once Max finally makes it to the car, breathless and slightly red in the face.

                “I forgot to lock the door,” Max answers, fastening his seatbelt.

                “Like anyone would want what you have,” Daniel says, putting the car in gear and merging onto the street.

                “Hey, I’ve got valuable stuff!” Max retorts, feigning hurt.

                “Like what?”

                Max pauses for a moment. “My sim, PS4, food…”

                “Nobody wants the shit you eat,” Daniel says, laughing.

                “I do,” Max murmurs, looking at his teammate with a bright smile.

                “Whatever. What time does our flight leave?”

                “Let me check.” Max digs his phone out of his front pocket and turns it on, searching through his emails for the itinerary. “We’ve got an hour and a half.”

                “Perfect.” Daniel switches on the radio, some EDM song playing through the speakers. Daniel gasps and turns it up louder. “I love this song.” Max grins and looks out the window, focusing on the lyrics of the song; Daniel singing along made it easier.

                _Gonna just come out and say it_

_I think both of us are crazy_

_But I love you anyhow_

_It’s just how we get down._

Max smiles to himself. Listening to Daniel’s out of tune singing--as well as the lyrics of the song--filled Max’s heart with a kind of joy he hadn’t felt around someone else in a long while. He knew the lyrics weren’t directed towards him but he imagined, just for a moment, that they wer. It would make giving Daniel the box tonight a lot easier.

 

                Their flight, thankfully, wasn’t delayed and they made it to Ibiza at a good time. Max, of course, slept through most of the plane ride, waking up with his head resting on Daniel’s shoulder. Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice nor comment on it. He was still trying to wake up as they made their way through the crowded streets of Spain in a crappy rental car, searching for the hotel they had booked rooms at. Max had gotten them both separate rooms, so as to avoid speculation from the front desk, as the receptionists would, surely, recognize them. And, he wasn’t sure if Daniel was comfortable with them sharing a bed quite yet, only having been dating for a week.

                Max was, almost, fully awake by the time they pulled into the parking lot of their hotel. It was an extravagant building, nestled along the coastline. He stretches his arms above his head with a sigh, joints cracking from lack of use. Daniel parks the car and turns off the engine, looking over at his boyfriend with a grin. Max returns his gaze. “What?”

                “Nothing,” Daniel responds with a light tone. “Just admiring the view.”

                “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Max adds with a wink. Daniel rolls his eyes, unfastens his seatbelt and opens the car door, stepping into the warm Spanish sun. Max follows suit, stretching his entire body once he had more room. He admires the hotel building, which was painted a stunning white that reflected the sun. He could just imagine how the night would go: they’d meet up with a few friends, explore the town a bit, then they’d go their separate ways and leave Max and Daniel to their own devices. They would, most likely, spend the night in one of their hotel rooms, ordering far too much room service and getting drunk on the cheap alcohol offered in the mini fridge. However, before they got too inebriated, Max would offer Daniel the box he kept safely hidden in his jacket, opening an entirely new chapter of their lives. It might be too soon but, with their background as very close friends, Daniel just might accept it.

                “I’m not going to carry your luggage for you every time we go somewhere,” Daniel says, giving Max the handle to his suitcase. Max shakes out of his thoughts and smiles at the Aussie, trailing after him to the hotel entrance.

                The interior was just as magnificent as the outside. The lobby was illuminated by ocean blue lights, contrasted by white leather seats. The reception desk appeared to be made of bamboo. As Max came closer, however, he saw that it was made of dark wood planks.

                “How can I help you?” the receptionist asks, smiling. Daniel steps back, gesturing for Max to take the lead.

                “Em...I’ve booked two hotel rooms, under the name ‘Whiteman’.” He looks back at Daniel, who was hiding a smile behind his fist. Max makes to punch him but the grin he wears belies any hatred.

                “325 and 335?” the receptionist asks. Max nods. The woman reaches below the desk and grabs four keycards, two for each of them. “You’ll be on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!” Max thanks her and takes the cars, gesturing for Daniel to follow him.

                “Are there elevators in this place?” Daniel asks, following Max down a long hallway. Almost as soon as he asked, Max points to a white sign on the wall telling them where the nearest elevator is.

                “I’m guessing right here,” Max says, turning to Daniel and smiling. Daniel silently quiets him and walks down the shorter hallway leading to the elevators. He presses the “up” button--the only button, to be fair--and waits. Thankfully, the wait was short and the two were on their way to the third floor in a few minutes.

                Max looks at his teammate, encased by the white-blue light of the lift. He had taken his phone out of his pocket and was scrolling through social media, completely oblivious to Max’s attention. Every once in a while, Daniel would smile at something on his phone and Max’s heart would leap. Seeing Daniel smile was something that never got old.

                When the elevator dinged, Daniel put his phone back in his pocket and turned to Max. “What?” he asks, returning his smile.

                “Nothing,” Max answers, looking away briefly. “I just can’t believe you agreed to go on holiday with me.”

                “I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend if I didn’t, would I?” Max’s breathing catches in his throat and a shiver excitement shot down his spine at the word ‘boyfriend’. Daniel must have noticed as he, then, pulls Max into a one-armed hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as they exit the lift.

                “No, I guess you wouldn’t,” Max responds shakily, breaking away from Daniel and to find his respective room.

 

                After several hours of spending time with a few friends who happened to be in the area, Max and Daniel were finally alone. Rather than have dinner at some fancy restaurant and risk being spotted by media, they agreed on going back to the hotel. Once there, they went to their separate rooms, as the hotel was now bustling with people. Max took the extra time to shower, redress, style his hair and apply a bit of cologne he had bought for a night like this.

                He was about to put on his shoes and walk to Daniel’s room--the halls were quiet and he assumed it was safe--when his phone buzzed from its spot on the nightstand. He looks at it quizzically before picking it up and reading the message on screen.

                **DANIEL** : _Open your door. I’ve got something for you ;)_

Max smiles and makes for the door, straightening his clothes before opening it. He wasn’t very surprised when he saw Daniel there. What he was surprised by, however, was the large bouquet of flowers hiding his face and the bottle of red wine he had by his side.

“Hey, darling,” Max says between laughs, reaching out to take the flowers so he could see Daniel’s face. The Aussie was wearing a bright smile, which he held until he leaned in to place a lingering kiss to Max’s lips. When they pulled away, he ushered Daniel inside, not wanting to be exposed for longer than necessary.

“Good evening,” Daniel says, making his way to the kitchen and placing the bottle of wine on the counter. Max enters the living room--where he had set up a dining table, earlier--and places the flowers on the center. The room’s hotel provided Max with an unobstructed view of the ocean below; the perfect background for a dinner with his teammate.

“How was the rest of your day without me?” Max questions, joining Daniel in the kitchen. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Boring and very quiet,” Daniel responds, standing in front of Max. “I’m just glad we’re back together.”

Max smiles and steps forward, placing a hand on the back of Daniel’s neck and pulling him into a heated kiss. Daniel instantly responds, taking Max by the hips and holding him flush against his body, sighing against his mouth. Max smiles and deepens the kiss, licking at Daniel’s lower lip. However, before they can get too far, Daniel pulls away and rests his forehead against Max’s breathing deeply.

“Why don’t we eat something, first, Max?” Daniel asks, voice noticeably deeper than usual. The Dutchman nods, trying to fight the burning heat in his stomach, and steps away. He brushes past Daniel to the adjacent bedroom, where a phone was situated on the wall. He takes it off the stand and dials the number for hotel room service, Daniel joining him a few seconds later. The two order anything that sounds good--within the limits of their diets--and Max hangs up the phone, turning to Daniel.

“We’ve got about thirty minutes,” Max says softly, reaching for Daniel’s hand and intertwining their fingers. He was never this touchy in relationships but there was something about Daniel that made him act different; a good different.

“Well, I hate to break the mood,” Daniel says, untangling their fingers. “But I really need a shower. If we’re going on a date I want to, at least, smell decent.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Max responds, feigning hurt. “Take your damn shower. I’ll drink that wine alone.” Max crosses his arms and turns his back to Daniel, acting every bit he spoiled brat.

“God, you’re dramatic,” Daniel says, grabbing Max’s wrist and turning him around, kissing him before he could say anything else. Max sighs and melts into his touch. Once again, before Max could take it any further, Daniel pulls away, chuckling as the Dutchman chases his mouth. “Later, darling. For now, please, let me take a shower.”         

                “Alright,” Max concedes. “Don’t take too long?”

                “Anything for my little drama queen,” Daniel says, kissing Max’s forehead before leaving the for the en-suite bathroom. Max smiles before leaving the bedroom and returning to the living room.

                The first thing he notices is the black jacket draped across the back of one of the chairs at the table. Max knows that beneath the fabric lies the black box that has made the past hours heavy with anxiety. He steps closer to it, running the navy material between his fingers and debating whether or not he should do it. Max sighs and sits at the table, digging his phone out of his pocket to distract himself and pass the time. Instagram nor Twitter held anything of interest to him, so he opened the messages he and Daniel had exchanged over the past week. They were flirty and full of jokes; like nothing had changed. The only difference was that they were, now, sharing a hotel room and kissing behind closed doors. _I wish we didn’t have to hide._

                A knock on the door startles Max from his thoughts and he stands up a bit too fast, vision blurring and head throbbing. He makes his way, slowly, to the door of the hotel room and opens it, squinting at the bright light.

                “Room, service, sir,” a young, cheerful voice says, belonging to the bell boy who had brought Max their food. He wheels the cart into the living room and sets everything up, seemingly oblivious to everything around him. Upon seeing Max’s face clearly, however, the boy blushes and stutters, “You’re Max Verstappen…”

                “Eh, yeah...I am,” Max responds. Normally, he wouldn’t have any problem talking to his fans. However, with the situation he was in, he couldn’t help but be a little on edge. He tries to smile but he’s afraid it seems more awkward than it should have been.

                “I’m a huge fan of yours,” the boy says, resting a hand over his heart. “You’ve been a real inspiration to me.”

                “I’m glad I could help, man,” Max says. “Have a wonderful night.

                “Yeah. You, too.” The boy nods and hurriedly leaves the room, either from embarrassment or anxiety, Max didn’t know. That didn’t stop the smile that lit up his face as he set about preparing everything for tonight.

                By the time Daniel had showered and dressed, Max had set the table for a semi-romantic evening. There were no candles but there was the light of the sunset, which proved to be better. He had plated their food expertly and filled two glasses with the red wine Daniel had brought along; the same brand he had stashed in Max’s fridge nearly two hours ago. The Aussie looked surprised when he entered the living room.

                “I hope you don’t mind,” Max says, gesturing to his work. “I wanted our night to be, you know, romantic.”

                “It’s wonderful,” Daniel says, joining Max at the table and taking the seat across from him. “I would have been fine with food and a bed. You didn't have to do this.”

                “I wanted to,” Max reassures, reaching across the table to rest his hand on Daniel’s forearm. He smiles shyly and looks down. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this shy, before.”

                “Shut up. It’s just,” he fumbles for the right word, gesturing to everything before him. “I’ve never had someone do this for me.”

                “Never?” Daniel shakes his head. “Well, I’ve never done this for someone before.”

                Daniel scoffs and smiles. “There’s a first time for everything.”

                They fall silent and begin eating. Salad, Max decided, was his new favorite food in Spain. Paired with the wine it was pure bliss and Max wanted to savor it. Daniel, on the other hand, went through his meal far too fast for it to be healthy.

                “Damn, slow down, mate,” Max says, laughing through his mouthful of food. Daniel shushes him and takes a long drink from his wine glass. He, then, sets it down and stands up, circling the table to stand behind Max. He runs his hands across his shoulders to come to a stop on his chest and he leans down to whisper in Max’s ear.

                “I’m going to the bedroom. Care to join me?”

                Max turns his head, the rest of his food forgotten, and leans up to kiss Daniel hard and passionately. The Aussie helps him stand up, wrapping his arms around his waist and escorting him to the bedroom, only hitting a couple walls on their way. Daniel keeps pushing Max back until he hits the bed and he’s forced to lay down, Daniel hovering above him. Max smiles and kisses him again; this time, when he goes to deepen the kiss, Daniel doesn’t stop him.

 

                An hour later, the two of them lie in each other’s arms, the sheets tangled between them. Max was still whimpering softly, while Daniel was merely taking deep breaths. The Dutchman could feel his lover’s heartbeat, soothing to his exhausted mind; he couldn’t have asked for a better end to the night. In his ecstasy-clouded state, however, he almost forgot about the black box.

                “Daniel,” he asks feebly, twisting around in his embrace to prop himself up on his elbows and look down at his teammate. The older driver hums in acknowledgement, cracking  open one eye. “Can I ask you something?”

                “With the state we’re in, you can ask me anything,” Daniel responds with a chuckle, reaching up to run his fingers through Max’s sweat-soaked hair.

                “How would you react if I were to give you a key to my apartment?” Max says this so quickly Daniel almost didn’t understand up. When the words did register in his mind, though, he looks at his lover with a mixture of disbelief and hope in his eyes.

                “I would accept it, of course,” Daniel answers, sitting upright. Max wills himself to maintain eye contact and not focus on the way the Aussie’s tanned skin looks against the white sheets. “Are you giving me one?”

                Max shrugs. “Thought about it. I’ve got it in my jacket in the living room. I was going to ask over dinner but, obviously, I got a little distracted.”

                Daniel hums. “Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t expect it to go this far.”

                “I’m glad it did, though,” Max says, looking up at his teammate. “Are you saying yes?”

                “Of course. It’ll be nice to know that I can sabotage your apartment if you ever anger me.” Max makes to swat at Daniel but is stopped by his hand catching his wrist. “I’m joking. I wouldn’t do that.”

                “I think you would,” Max retorts, freeing his wrist and laying his head on Daniel’s lap, closing his eyes when Daniel starts finger-combing his hair.

                “You’re right. I probably would.”


	10. Spanish Grand Prix--2018

The Spanish Grand Prix was rather uneventful for both Red Bull drivers. Max made up two positions on the grid to finish with a podium, while Daniel made up one position and took fastest lap. Of course, Max would have wanted to win again but he would settle for third; there was still champagne and celebrations to be had.

                After Max’s press duties had been finished, he made his way back to his motorhome to change out of his suit. It was cool inside, which he was very thankful for. He dressed quickly and ran a comb through his champagne-soaked hair, wanting to look decent for Daniel. Despite them being friends for two years, Max still cared about his appearance when he was around him.

                Max yelps at the sound of knocking and he sets the comb down forcefully, hoping that whoever was outside hadn’t heart him. He crosses the trailer to the door and opens it slowly, peeking his head around the frame. He smiled when he saw it was Daniel and opened the door fully.

                “Nice job today, man!” Daniel says, reaching for Max’s hand and shaking it, lingering a bit too long when he pulled away.

                “Yeah. You too,” Max responds, gesturing for Daniel to come inside. “I’m going back to the hotel soon, but you’re welcome to relax for a few minutes.”

                “Why don’t we leave now?” Daniel asks, stepping back as an invitation for Max to join him. “I think your celebration will start in a bit.”

                “I don’t want to celebrate with all those people,” Max says, retreating to the ‘living room’ to grab his bag. “I was just thinking of a quiet night in.” Max swings the bag over his shoulder and steps out of the motorhome, closing the door behind him. “Care to join me?”   
                “I’d be delighted to,” Daniel answers, reaching for Max’s hand before remembering they were supposed to be discreet. Max looked at him sympathetically and brushes his knuckles along the back of his hand. “So, what did you have in mind for tonight?”

                Max shrugs. “Probably lay in bed, drink...whatever comes to mind.”

                “Sounds better than what the team had planned,” Daniel says. Max laughs in response.

                “My ideas are _always_ better.”

 

                Over the course of two hours, max and Daniel had consumed the entire bottle of champagne the hotel had graciously left. They had, probably, expected Max to return with a beautiful lady and celebrate with her late into the night. Little did they know that it was going to be shared with his teammate. By the time the clock struck ten, the pair of them were a giggling mess. They had turned the television to a channel showing some terrible movie, which was now the sole attention of their drunken humor.

                “What the hell are you forcing me to watch?” Daniel asks, laughing hysterically.

                “Just shut up and watch it,” Max responds, equally as delirious. “This is a masterpiece.”

                “No, it’s shit,” Daniel says, gesturing to the screen. The smile on his face, however, showed his true emotions. “They can’t even get gun mechanics right.”

                “You’re shit,” Max murmurs, looking at Daniel out of the corner of his eye.

                “Says the man that doesn’t know how rear-view mirrors work,” Daniel retorts, half-sincerely. He turns his head to look at Max, grinning broadly.

                “I thought we were past that,” Max says, turning his attention back to the television.

                “We will never be past that,” Daniel answers. They fall silent and focus back on the film. After a few minutes they go back to making jokes and laughing until they’re breathless.

                “What was the point of that ending?” Daniel asks after several moments of staring, in silence, at the credits rolling on the screen. “It didn’t resolve anything!”

                “It resolved the question we’ve both been asking,” Max answers. “When is this damned movie gonna end?” Daniel shrugs.

                “God, I wish they would supply us with consoles. I could totally beat your ass in Siege right now.”

                Max scoffs and looks at Daniel. “You’re serious? You can’t beat my ass when you’re sober. What makes you think you could do it now?”

                “I’ve got the ultimate strategy,” Daniel continues, sitting up straighter and gesturing wildly. “When you’re attacking, I’ll cover all points of entry with tripwire. When you’re defending, I’ll breach through windows.”

                “You do that anyway,” Max says. “And I still beat you.”

                “Fine, fine. To make things fair, I’d attack you while _only_ lying down. You’d _never_ see it coming.”

                “Well, now that you’ve told me--”

                “Shut up!” Daniel exclaims, rolling over and pinning Max to the mattress. He draped his legs over Max’s hips and held his hands above his head, smiling and giggling the entire time. Max was helpless to do the same. Then, his laugh trails off and his expression turns to one of fondness, affection. Daniel notices this and tries to catch enough breath to speak. “What?”

                “Nothing,” Max says absently. “Just admiring your confidence.”

                “You don’t think I could beat you?”

                “No, I don’t.”

                Daniel smiles. “I’ve beat you in everything we’ve done, so far. How is this any different?”

                “Because you’re _Daniel._ Your strats never work.”

                Daniel leans back and places a hand over his heart, feigning offence. “How _dare_ you? My strategies are perfect.”

                “Then explain why they never work.”

                “They never work…” Daniel pauses, thinking of the right thing to say. “They never work because I get distracted.”

                “How do you get distracted in a game like that?”

                Daniel doesn’t speak for a few moments, only looks into Max’s eyes. When he does talk, his voice is laced with affection and warmth. “God, I love you.”

                Max’s breathing catches in his throat when he hears those words. “I’m sorry...what?”

                “I said ‘ love you’.” Daniel leans down to place a gentle kiss to Max’s lips, tangling their fingers together. “You’re such a nerd and I love you.” Max remains silent, staring up at Daniel with wide eyes. He had heard him say those words before but they were in a joking manner, never serious. Now, however, there was too much raw emotion in his voice for it to be fake. Max smiles and leans up to kiss Daniel long and sweet, freeing his hands to cup the Aussie’s face.

                When they finally break apart for longer than a few seconds, Daniel chuckles and rolls over to lay on his back, drawing his boyfriend close. “Do you remember Malaysia? When you were sick the day of quali?”

                Max nods, recalling all too well the misery of that day. “How could anyone forget that?”

                “I was going to call and apologize. I felt terrible saying those things to you but I was experiencing...feelings for you, that I had never felt before and I thought you would have taken it easy on me. I needed to get away and figure out if these feelings were real and not just a phase. I realized that I had very, very strong feelings for you.”

                “Daniel--” Max starts.

                “I’m not finished. When you called and asked me to take care of you while you were sick in Malaysia, that was all I needed to know that I was in love with you. I wanted to hold you, play with your hair until you were better. I wanted to kiss the champagne from your lips on that podium and I…” Daniel lifts Max’s chin with his index finger, forcing him to looks up. “I love you, Max. I love you so Goddamn much.”

                “Daniel. If you would listen to me, I was trying to say that I love you, too. Ever since we met I had some kind of feelings for you. The more time we spent together, I began to fall in love with every part of you. You’re fantastic and I couldn’t ask for a better person by my side.”

                Daniel sighs in relief, settling back down against the pillows. “I hope I don’t forget this when I wake up.”

                Max chuckles, cuddling closer to Daniel and closing his eyes. “I don’t think you’d ever forget your first ‘I love you’.”

                “Probably not. Especially not with your teammate.”

  



	11. Monaco Grand Prix--2018

The Monaco Grand Prix was always enjoyable, for both the drivers and the spectators. For Max, it allowed him to stay locked in the comfort of his apartment building and prepare himself for the race ahead in any way he saw fit. It, usually, consisted of hours on the simulator and laying in bed, staving off a panic attack. A few times during the week, Daniel would sneak into Max’s apartment--using the key Max gave him--and help Max unwind, whether that was with food, video games or sex, it didn’t matter. It was, definitely, one of the better weeks before a race.

                Practice was, relatively, uneventful for both of them. Daniel took first and set a new track record, while Max came second, just barely behind his teammate. Qualifying, however, was an entirely different story. Daniel had dominated every round of qualifying, while Max had to retire due to damage to his car after he had his a wall. Despite this, however, he had still qualifies 15th. He was feeling pretty good about it--positive, even--but that good mood fell when he heard they would have to change the gearbox.

                “That’ll give me a five-place grid penalty!” Max exclaimed, running a hand through is hair in exasperation. “We can’t afford that here!”

                “I understand, Max,” the mechanic says, trying his best to calm the driver down. “We can’t take the risk of running the race with a broken gearbox.”

                “Can we, at least, try?” The mechanic shakes his head and Max groans. “Why is this season going so terribly?”

                “It’ll be fine,” the mechanic says. “We’ll get it fixed and everything will be fine.”

                Max scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the tire of his broken car. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to make up 19 positions in Monaco.”

                “I’d listen to them, Max.” The Dutchman quickly looks to the garage entrance, where Daniel was walking towards him, helmet under his arm. _Has it already been an hour?_ “Keep your head up and all that.”

                Max sighs and hangs his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yes, I know. Kind of hard to do that when you’re starting from last place.”

                “I know,” Daniel says, reassuringly patting his back. “You’ll make them up, I know you will.” Max smiles shyly and dips his head, looking at his mechanic through his lashes.

                “We’ll start work on it, now,” the mechanic says. “Go home and relax.” Max nods and looks at Daniel, silently asking him to follow.

 

                “We need to be more careful,” Max scolds as they make their way up the stairs to Max’s apartment. “That mechanic, surely, knew something was up.”

                “He doesn’t know anything,” Daniel soothes, resting a hand on Max’s shoulder. “He’ll just thing I’m repeating his words so you’ll listen.”

                “Are you sure?” Max questions, digging in his pocket for the keys. He’d never unlocked a door faster in his life, eager to have Daniel to himself.

                “I promise,” Daniel responds, closing the door softly behind him. Max tosses his bag onto the nearby couch and goes to the kitchen, rooting through the fridge in search of something sweet. However, due to his diet, the closest thing he had to a sugary food was raspberries. He sighs and takes them from the fridge, closing the door behind him and joining Daniel in the living room. He sits on the couch beside him and takes a raspberry from the container, putting it in his mouth, somewhat, solemnly.

                “You enjoying those?” Daniel asks, noticing Max’s disappointed expression.

                “Not really, no. I was, kind of, hoping for something sweeter but,” Max shrugs and eats another berry. “Life sucks.”

                “Oh, don’t be like that,” Daniel pleads, laying his head on Max’s shoulder. “This’ll pass and everything will be okay.”

                “I know. Right now, it’s just hard to believe that,” Max says, resting his head on Daniels and eating another berry. Daniel hums then falls silent for a couple minutes, cuddling against Max’s side. Then, unexpectedly, he stands up and dashes to another room, leaving Max confused.

                “What are you doing?” Max calls, smiling to himself.

                “I know something that’ll cheer you up,” Daniel’s muffled voice answers. Max rolls his eyes, leans his against the back of the couch and sighs. He wasn’t sure what Daniel had in mind but he was sure that it wouldn’t cheer up him up; not even sex could lift his mood. The only thing that could would be a win from the unforgiving streets of Monaco…

                Max’s thoughts are interrupted by the soft sound of a guitar. He lifts his head to see Daniel standing in the entryway to the living room, a speaker in one hand and his phone in the other. He wore a bright smile and was looking at Max expectantly. The Dutchman groans but returns his smile. “What _are_ you doing?”

                “I’m playing music,” Daniel responds, moving into the living room and setting the speaker and phone on the coffee table. He, then, extends his hand to Max. “Would you join me for a dance?”   
                Max shakes his head. “I don’t know--”

                “Come on.” Daniel circles the table and takes Max’s hand, pulling him into a standing position. “Please, dance with me? It really relieves stress.” Max laughs shyly but rests one hand on Daniel’s shoulder, holding the Aussie’s hand with the other.

                “Fine. But only to shut you up.” Daniel grins and starts swaying in time with the music, Max following his lead. When the lyrics started, Daniel sang along, leading Max through a repeated routine of back and forward steps.

                “ ‘I made it down the coast in seventeen hours…’ “ Daniel starts. Max gets the memo and picks up the song where he left off.

                “ ‘Picking me a bouquet of dogwood flowers…’ “

                “ ‘And I’m a hoping for Raleigh I can see my baby tonight…’ “ they finish together, wrapping their arms around each other and holding the other tightly. Daniel hummed the chorus, the sound vibrating through Max’s chest. He nuzzles Daniel’s neck, taking in the happiness he felt at hearing Daniel sing and finally having him in arms after hours of hiding. He felt tears prick the corners of his eyes and he tried to stop them but the amount of raw emotion he felt was too much and he let them fall. Daniel pulls back enough to look at his boyfriend, concern in his eyes upon seeing he was crying.

                “Are you alright, Max?” Daniel asks, wiping away the tears with his thumb.

                “I’m great,” he responds, looking into the deep brown of Daniel’s eyes. “It’s just..all of this is just...it’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

                “Yeah, I knew that,” Daniel says sarcastically.

                “Shut up,” Max murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to Daniel’s lips. “I love you.”

                Daniel kisses him again, this time harder and more passionately. “I love you, too, darling. And I promise tomorrow will be better.”

                “If you break that promise, I’ll do a re-enactment of Baku,” Max teases, running his hand down Daniel’s arm and intertwining their fingers.

                “You wouldn’t do that.”

                “No, I wouldn’t. Because then I’d have to leave you. And that would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do.”

  



	12. Monte Carlo--2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written BEFORE everything went down and I didn't want to add onto it, as it broke my heart too much. I know that sounds stupid but...it's true. I hope you guys all enjoyed this work because it took me way too long to write.

Sunlight filters through the curtains on Max’s bedroom window, bathing the room in a soothing morning glow. He takes a deep breath and stretches, yawning simultaneously. He, then, rolls over, facing the man in bed next to him. Daniel’s hair was a mess, sticking up in random places and curling in others. He was still asleep, lips slightly parted and breathing deeply. Max smiled and draped his arm over Daniel’s chest, cuddling closer to him. He listened to the sound of his heartbeat and closed his eyes again, willing himself to go back to sleep. However, that wish was denied as Daniel shifted beneath him, groaning at the morning light.

                “Hey,” Max says, not bothering to look up and see if he was, indeed, awake; the fingers running through his hair were enough of an indication.

                “Morning, love,” Daniel responds, voice thick from sleep. “How’d you sleep?”

                “Far too well. You?” Max asks, tilting his head up to look at Daniel.

                “Amazingly, after last night.” Max smiles and leans up to kiss Daniel softly, not minding his morning breath. He sighs when Daniel licks at his bottom lip and rolls over to straddle his hips, cupping Daniel’s face in his hands. The Aussie runs his hands down Max’s back to rest just above the curve of his ass, bucking his hips slightly.

                Just as Max was about to kiss his way down Daniel’s chest, the sound of a phone ringing interrupts them. Max pulls away with a heavy sigh, looking at his boyfriend pleadingly. Daniel kisses him one last time before, gently, pushing Max away to roll over and take his phone from the nightstand. He groans in frustration upon realizing who it is but answers the phone anyway, sitting up and tossing the sheets aside.

                “Hey, Christian,” Daniel says tiredly, standing up and stretching. Max can’t hear what’s being said and he lies back on the bed, hands behind his head. As the minutes go by, Daniel’s voice gets more excited and he begins pacing the floor in front of the bed, smiling and rubbing the back of his neck. “What about Max?”

                The man in question looks up, slightly surprised and curious. _Why would he mention me?_ Daniel’s smile fades and he sits at the foot of the bed, listening intently to Christian’s words. Max sat quietly, fiddling with the sheets between his fingers. He couldn’t help the flutter of anxiety in his stomach upon hearing his name; it never meant good things.

                “I’ll think about it,” Daniel finally says. “Alright, thank you, Christian.” He hangs up the phone with a sigh and looks over his shoulder at Max, who was gazing at him expectantly.

                “That was good and bad news?” Max questions, sitting up straighter.

                Daniel smiles feebly, moving up the bed so he sat across from Max. “Mostly good but there was a bit of not-so-good.”

                Max nods and reaches for Daniel’s hand, squeezing it in an attempt to stave off the waves of anxiety washing over him. “Anything I should know about?”

                Daniel stays silent for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “I got an offer...from another team.”

                “That’s great, Daniel! Which team?” Max tries to convey happiness through his tone but can’t help the feeling of jealousy that sparks through him.

                “Ferrari. And I asked about you, if they’d take both of us…”

                “And they didn’t?” Daniel shakes his head.

                “They said they’re only going to boot one driver. And, even if they did have another seat, they said you’re too reckless,” Daniel says, smiling slightly. Max scoffs, staring down at their joined hands.

                “Why am I not surprised?” Max falls silent, one question burning in his mind. However, he was afraid to ask for fear of the answer. “What are you going to do?”

                “I don’t know. Take it, probably.”

                Max looks up, brows furrowed. “Why?”

                “I need a new challenge. Red Bull is great but… I feel that, in a better car, I can win a championship.”

                “But you’ll be leaving me,” Max pleads. He knows it’s a selfish thing to do but he couldn’t imagine life without Daniel by his side on the team. He couldn’t imagine racing caravans around race circuits with anyone else; couldn’t imagine post-season interviews with anyone but Daniel.

“I know. It’s just...the cars aren’t good enough to give me a title and I know I deserve one. Moving up will be good for me.”

“For your career. What about _us?_ ” Max asks, taking both of Daniel’s hands. “If you leave, we’ll

hardly see each other. I don’t want that.”

                “Max, you’re the greatest thing to have happened to me and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you but if I moved up, I wouldn’t be gone. I’ll just be wearing a red suit.”

                “We’d be rivals. There wouldn’t be any friendly competition on the track anymore. It’d be what everyone else on the grid has and I don’t want that. Neither do you.”

                Daniel pauses, considering. “You make a valid point.”

                “I know,” Max says. “And, who knows, maybe the engines will be better than we thought. Please, Daniel. Stay with me.” They stare at each other for a few seconds, each silently pleading for the other to see their side of the situation. Max, then, leans forward and kisses Daniel, softly yet still firm; telling him what he’ll be missing if he leaves. “You’re the only family I’ve got, Danny. I don’t know if I can stand fighting against you...for real.”

                “What about your mother...your sister?” Daniel asks, squeezing Max’s hands.

                “We’ve kind of drifted apart after they...found out,” Max answers quietly. “And my father...well, we never had a good relationship.” Max turns his gaze to their hands for a brief moment, then surges forward and kisses Daniel again, harder this time. He sighed against his lips and brought a hand up to bury it in his curls, holding him close.

                Daniel chuckles and pulls back, putting a hand on the back of Max’s neck to keep him still. “For you, my Darling Dutchman, I’ll stay.”

  



End file.
